No, 


Date 


THIS  BOOK 

is    the    Property  of  ^ 

E,J,  DUBOIS 


JUGGERNAUT 

a  IDeileb  Itecorfc 


BY 

GEORGE  GARY  EGGLESTON 

AND 

DOLORES  MARBOURG 


NEW  YORK 
FORDS,  HOWARD,  £  HULBERT 


PS 


COPYRIGHT  IN  1891,  BY 
GEORGE  GARY  EGGLESTON 

AND 

DOLORES  MARBOURG 


A II  Rights  Reserved 


Go  flftafcame 


J 


UGGERNAUT: 

A   VEILED   RECORD. 


I. 

EDGAR  BRAINE  was  never  so  blithe  in  all 
his  life  as  on  the  morning  of  his  suicide. 

Years  after,  in  the  swirl  and  tumult  of  his 
extraordinary  career,  the  memory  of  that  June 
morning,  and  of  the  mood  in  which  he  greeted 
it,  would  rush  upon  him  as  a  flood,  and  for 
the  moment  drown  the  eager  voices  that  be 
sought  his  attention,  distracting  his  mind  for 
the  briefest  fraction  of  an  instant  from  the 
complex  problems  of  affairs  with  which  he 
wrestled  ceaselessly. 

In  the  brief  moment  during  which  he 
allowed  the  vision  of  a  dead  past  thus  to  in 
vade  his  mind,  he  would  recall  every  detail  of 
that  morning  with  photographic  accuracy,  and 
more  than  photographic  vividness. 

In  such  moments,  he  saw  himself  young, 
but  with  a  mature  man's  ambition,  and  more 


JUGGERNA  UT: 


than  the  strength  of  a  man,  as  he  strode 
sturdily  down  the  streets  of  the  little  Western 
city,  the  June  sunshine  all  about  him  in  a 
golden  glory,  while  the  sunshine  within  ex 
ceeded  it  a  hundredfold. 

His  mood  was  exultant,  and  with  reason. 
He  had  already  conquered  the  only  obstacles 
that  barred  his  way  to  success  and  power. 
He  had  impressed  himself  upon  the  minds  of 
men,  in  a  small  way  as  yet,  to  be  sure,  but 
sufficiently  to  prove  his  capacity,  and  confirm 
his  confidence  in  his  ability  to  conquer,  whith 
ersoever  he  might  direct  his  march. 

Life  opened  its  best  portals  to  him.  He 
was  poor,  but  strong  and  well  equipped.  He 
had  won  possession  of  the  tools  with  which  to 
do  his  work ;  and  the  conquest  of  the  tools  is 
the  most  difficult  task  set  the  man  who  con 
fronts  life  armed  only  with  his  own  abilities. 
That  accomplished,  if  the  man  be  worthy,  the 
rest  follows  quite  as  a  matter  of  course, — an 
effect  flowing  from  an  efficient  cause. 

Edgar  Braine  had  proved  to  himself  that  he 
possessed  superior  capacities.  He  had  long 
entertained  that  opinion  of  his  endowment, 
but  his  caution  in  self-estimate  was  so  great 
that  he  had  been  slower  than  any  of  his  ac 
quaintances  to  accept  the  fact  as  indisputably 
proved. 


A   VEILED  RECORD. 


It  had  been  proved,  however,  and  that  was 
cause  enough  for  rejoicing,  to  a  mind  which 
had  tortured  itself  from  boyhood  with  unutter 
able  longings  for  that  power  over  men  which 
superior  intellect  gives, — a  mind  that  had 
dreamed  high  dreams  of  the  employment  of 
such  power  for  human  progress. 

His  was  not  an  ambition  achieved.  It  was 
that  immeasurably  more  joyous  thing,  an  am 
bition  in  sure  process  of  achievement. 

But  this  was  not  his  only  cause  of  joy. 
Love,  as  well  as  life,  had  smiled  upon  him, 
and  the  woman  who  had  subdued  all  that  was 
noblest  in. him  to  that  which  was  still  nobler 
in  her,  was  presently  to  be  his  wife. 

And  so  Edgar  Braine's  heart  sang  merrily 
within  him  as  he  strode  through  the  cotton- 
wood-bordered  streets  toward  his  editorial 
work-shop. 

He  entered  the  composing-room  in  front, 
and  greeted  the  foreman  with  even  more  of 
cordiality  than  was  his  custom,  though  his 
custom  was  a  cordial  one. 

He  tried  not  to  observe  that  Mikey  Hagin, 
the  Spartan-souled  apprentice  of  the  establish 
ment,  was  complacently  burning  a  hole  in  the 
palm  of  his  hand,  in  a  heroic  endeavor  to  hide 
the  fact  that  he  had  been  smoking  a  cigarette 
in  risk  of  that  instant  discharge  which  Braine 


JUGGERNAUT: 


had  threatened  as  the  fore-ordained  punish 
ment  of  that  crime,  if  he  should  ever  catch 
the  precocious  youth  committing  it  again. 

He  saw  the  cigarette,  of  course, — it  was  his 
habit  to  see  things, — and  the  blue  wreath 
floating  upward  from  the  hand  in  which  a 
hasty  attempt  had  been  made  to  conceal  it, 
was  perfectly  apparent.  But  his  humor  was 
much  too  joyous  for  him  to  enforce  the  pen 
alty,  though  he  had  decreed  it  with  a  fixed 
purpose  to  enforce  it.  Somehow  the  grief  of 
Mrs.  Hagin,  Mikey's  mother  and  Braine's 
laundress,  at  the  discharge  of  her  not  over 
hopeful  son,  was  much  more  vividly  present  to 
his  imagination  this  morning  than  when  he 
had  promulgated  the  decree.  He  was  too 
happy  a  man  to  be  willing  to  make  any  human 
being  needlessly  unhappy. 

And  yet  he  was  too  strict  a  disciplinarian  to 
overlook  the  offence  entirely.  He  turned  to 
the  boy  and  said  : 

"  It  is  lucky  for  you  that  I  didn't  catch  you 
smoking  the  cigarette  you  have  in  your  hand. 
As  it  seems  to  be  smoking  you  instead,  I  don't 
so  much  mind." 

With  this,  as  the  lad  threw  the  burning  roll 
into  a  barrel  of  waste  paper — which  he  pres 
ently  extinguished  with  a  bucket  of  water — 
Braine  took  the  over-proofs  from  their  hook, 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  5 

and  passed  on  into  the  back  room,  which 
served  as  the  editorial  office  of  the  Thebes 
Daily  Enterprise. 

The  four  men  sitting  there  presented  but 
one  bodily  presence.  They  were  :  the  Local 
Editor,  the  River  Editor,  the  Society  Editor, 
and  "  Our  Reporter,"  and  their  name  was 
Moses  Harbell,  or,  if  universal  usage  is  author 
ity  in  nomenclature,  "  Mose  "  Harbell. 

Mose  was  a  bushy-haired  man  of  fifty,  who 
had  been  Local  Editor,  River  Editor,  Society 
Editor,  and  "Our  Reporter"  on  the  news 
papers  of  small  river  towns  from  a  time 
whereof  the  memory  of  man  runneth  not  to 
the  contrary. 

He  had  never  once  dared  aspire  to  a  more 
independent  position  as  his  own  master.  Per 
haps  the  fact  that  he  had  imprudently  married 
early,  and  now  had  a  family  consisting  of  a 
mother,  a  mother-in-law,  an  imbecile  sister,  a 
shrewish  wife,  nine  children  in  various  stages  of 
progress  toward  grown-up-hood,  and  four  dogs 
of  no  recognized  breed,  had  dampened  the  ardor 
of  his  ambition,  and  inclined  him  to  the  con 
servative  view  that  to  draw  a  salary  from 
somebody  else,  even  though  it  be  not  a  munifi 
cent  one,  is  on  the  whole  safer  for  a  prudent 
family  man,  than  to  take  ambitious  risks  on 
his  own  account. 


JUGGERNAUT: 


Mose  was  known  all  up  and  down  the  river 
by  his  first  name  in  its  abbreviated  form,  and 
by  no  other  on  any  occasion.  He  was  never 
spoken  of  in  print  without  the  adjective  prefix 
"genial,"  and  he  never  omitted  to  call  any 
body  "  genial  "  whom  he  had  occasion  to  men 
tion  in  his  own  paragraphs,  from  the  morose 
curmudgeon  who  invited  everybody  in  town  to 
his  parties  except  Mose  himself,  to  the  most 
ill-natured  mud  clerk  who  stood  in  the  rain  on 
the  levee  at  midnight  to  check  freight  received 
by  the  steamboat  that  employed  him  in  that 
capacity,  at  nothing  a  month  and  his  board. 

Life  had  dealt  rather  hardly  with  Mose,  but 
it  had  not  succeeded  in  curdling  any  of  the 
milk  of  human  kindness  mingled  with  his 
blood. 

His  notion  of  newspaper  editing,  apart  from 
calling  everybody  "  genial,"  was  to  mention 
everybody  on  every  possible  occasion,  to  praise 
everybody  without  regard  to  the  possibility  or 
impossibility  of  the  occasion,  and  to  chronicle 
the  personal  happenings  of  the  town  after  the 
following  fashion  : 


"  Ned  Heffron,  the  genial  ticket  dispenser  of  the  Cen 
tral  Railroad,  borrowed  a  boiled  shirt  yesterday,  got  his 
boots  blacked  on  tick,  and  started  on  a  free  pass  to 
Johnsonboro,  there  to  wed  the  acknowledged  belle  of  that 


young  and  thriving  city.  Miss  Blankety  Blank,  who  will 
henceforth  be  a  chief  ornament  to  the  society  of 
Thebes." 

Mose  was  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  his  young 
chief,  who  was  a  very  earnest  person,  pos 
sessed  of  a  conviction  that  a  newspaper  owes 
some  sort  of  duty  to  the  public,  and  that  its 
province  is  to  discriminate  somewhat  in  the 
bestowal  of  praise  and  blame.  But  Mose  was 
necessary  to  the  Thebes  Daily  Enterprise. 
Braine  could  not  afford  to  dispense  with  his 
"  geniality "  as  a  part  of  the  newspaper's 
equipment ;  for  Mose  knew  everybody  within 
the  Daily  Enterprise's  bailiwick  and  everybody 
knew  Mose.  Everybody  made  haste  to  tell 
Mose  all  the  news  there  might  be  ;  and,  al 
though  there  was  not  much  of  importance  in 
what  he  gathered,  still  it  was  news,  and  the 
news  seemed  to  Braine  a  necessary  part  of 
a  newspaper.  Thus  it  happened  that  Mose 
went  on  calling  everybody  "  genial  "  in  the 
news  department,  even  when  his  chief  was 
excoriating  the  same  persons  in  the  editorial 
columns  for  conduct  wholly  inconsistent  with 
Mose's  imputation  of  unbounded  geniality. 

On  this  particular  morning,  however, — the 
morning  of  Edgar  Braine's  suicide — even 
Mose's  presence,  recalling,  as  it  always  did, 
his  exasperating  methods,  could  not  ruffle  the 


8  JUGGERNAUT: 


young  man's  exultant  spirits.  He  was  so  ex 
uberantly  happy  that  he  omitted  to  remon 
strate  with  Mose  about  anything,  and  that 
tireless  manufacturer  of  praise,  observing  the 
omission,  immediately  wrote  and  sent  to  the 
composing-room  an  elephantinely  playful  para 
graph  in  which  he  said  : 

"  Our  genial  chief  was  so  much  pleased  this  morning 
over  the  impression  made  yesterday  by  his  apparently 
severe,  but  really  good-natured  leader  on  the  recent  de 
falcation  of  our  genial  city  clerk,  Charley  Hymes,  that 
he  took  the  local  to  his  arms  and  stood  treat  to  a  num 
ber-one  mackerel,  and  the  ever  appreciative  local  picked 
the  bones  of  the  aforesaid  saline  preserved  denizen  of 
the  deep,  in  the  bosom  of  his  family  at  dinner  to-day." 

That  was  Mose  Harbell's  idea  of  humor. 
It  was  not  Braine's  idea  of  humor  at  all,  and 
so  Mose  was  greeted  with  the  harshest  reproof 
he  had  ever  received  in  his  life  when  he 
next  met  his  chief.  He  accepted  it  "  gen 
ially." 

Having  sent  out  the  offending  paragraph, 
Mose  went  out  himself  to  gather  river  news, 
and  such  gossip  as  he  might,  concerning  the 
genial  folk  of  Thebes. 

Then  Abner  Hildreth  entered  the  office,  and 
for  two  hours  was  closeted  with  Braine. 

Then  Braine  committed  suicide. 


A   VEILED  RECORD. 


Then  he  wrote  his  own  obituary,  to  be 
printed  in  that  evening's  Enterprise. 

Then  he  went  supperless  to  his  room  over  a 
store,  where  he  paced  the  floor  till  dawn. 

Then  began  the  man's  extraordinary  career. 


I  o  JUGGERNA  UT: 


II. 


WHEN  Braine  returned  to  his  bare  little 
room  after  his  suicide,  he  was  in  a  strange, 
paradoxical  mood.  His  thought  was  intensely 
introspective,  and  yet,  with  a  whimsical  per 
versity,  his  mind  seemed  specially  alert  to 
external  objects,  and  full  of  fantastic  imagin 
ings  concerning  them. 

The  bareness  of  the  room  impressed  him, 
and  he  likened  it  to  a  cell  in  some  prison. 

"  Never  mind,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  may 
have  to  sleep  in  a  cell  some  time,  and  the 
habit  of  living  here  will  come  handy." 

Then,  with  a  little  laugh,  in  which  there 
was  no  trace  of  amusement,  he  stood  before 
his  desk,  and  added  : 

"  But  I  believe  they  don't  put  strips  of  worn 
out  carpet  by  the  prison  beds  ;  and  I  never 
heard  of  a  cell  having  a  desk  in  it  surmounted 
by  empty  collar-boxes  for  pigeon  holes.  Let 
me  see — six  times  five  are  thirty.  What  an 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  I  I 

extravagant  fellow  I  have  been,  to  use  up 
thirty  boxes  of  paper  collars  in  a  year!  Ten 
in  a  box,  that's  three  hundred — almost  one  a 
day  !  I  might  have  done  with  half  the  num 
ber  by  turning  them,  as  I  had  to  do  at  college 
before  paper  collars  came  in.  Psha  !  "  and  he 
seemed  to  spurn  the  trivial  reverie  from  him 
as  a  larger  recollection  surged  up  in  his  mind, 
and  he  began  to  pace  the  little  room  again 
with  the  purposeless  tramp  of  a  caged  wild 
beast,  whose  memory  of  the  forest  is  only  a 
pained  consciousness  that  it  is  his  no  more. 

The  June  twilight  faded  into  darkness,  and 
the  evening  gave  place  to  midnight,  but  the 
ghost-walk  went  ceaselessly  on. 

In  those  hours  of  agonizing  thought,  the 
young  man — to  be  young  no  more  henceforth 
— recalled  every  detail  of  his  life  with  a  vivid 
ness  which  tortured  him.  He  was  engaged, 
unwillingly,  in  obedience  to  a  resistless  im 
pulse,  in  searching  out  the  roots  of  his  own 
character,  and  finding  out  what  forces  had 
made  him  such  as  he  knew  himself  to  be. 

In  the  process  he  learned,  for  the  first  time, 
precisely  what  sort  of  man  he  really  was.  He 
saw  his  own  soul  undressed,  and  contemplated 
its  nakedness.  One's  soul  is  an  unusual  thing 
to  see  en  dJskabill/,  and  not  always  a  pleasing 
one. 


12  JUGGERNAUT: 

He  remembered  a  letter  his  mother  had 
written  him  at  college — that  mother  of  half 
Scotch  descent,  and  touched  with  Scottish 
second-sight,  who  had  silently  studied  his 
character  from  infancy,  and  learned  to  com 
prehend  it  not  without  fear.  He  could  repeat 
the  letter  word  for  word.  It  had  given  him 
his  first  hint  that  he  had  a  character,  and  a 
duty  to  do  with  respect  to  it.  He  had  cher 
ished  the  missive  for  years,  and  had  read  it  a 
thousand  times  for  admonition.  Alas!  how 
poor  a  thing  is  admonition  after  all ! 

"  There  is  one  danger  point  in  your  charac 
ter,  my  son  " — he  recalled  the  very  look  of  the 
cramped  words  on  the  page  of  blue-ruled  letter 
paper — "where  I  have  kept  watch  since  you 
lay  in  my  arms  as  a  baby,  and  where  you  must 
keep  watch  hereafter.  You  have  high  aims  and 
strong  convictions,  and  you  mean  to  do  right. 
You  will  never  be  led  astray  by  others — you 
are  too  obstinate  for  that.  If  you  ever  go 
astray,  you  must  take  all  the  blame  on  your 
own  head. 

"You  are  generous,  and  I  never  knew  you  to 
do  a  meanly  selfish  thing  in  your  life.  And  yet 
your  point  of  danger  is  selfishness  of  a  kind. 
I  have  observed  you  from  infancy,  and  this  is 
what  I  have  seen.  Your  desire  to  accomplish 
your  purposes  is  too  strong.  You  are  not  held 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  13 


back  by  any  difficulty.  You  make  any  sacri 
fice  in  pursuit  of  your  ends.  You  use  any 
means  you  can  find  to  carry  your  plans  through, 
and  you  are  quick  at  finding  means,  or  making 
them  when  you  want  them. 

"  I  was  proud  of  the  pluck  you  showed  in 
doing  almost  a  slave's  work  for  two  years,  be 
cause  you  had  made  up  your  mind  to  go 
through  college.  But  I  shuddered  at  the 
thought  of  what  such  determination  might 
lead  to. 

"  Oh  !  my  son,  you  will  succeed  in  life.  I 
have  no  fear  of  that.  But  how  ?  Beware  the 
time  when  your  purpose  is  strong,  your  desire 
to  succeed  great,  and  the  only  weans  at  com 
mand  arc  dishonest  and  degrading.  That  time 
will  come  to  you,  be  sure.  When  it  comes  you 
must  make  a  hard  choice — harder  for  you  than 
for  another.  You  will  then  sacrifice  a  purpose 
that  it  will  seem  like  death  to  surrender — or 
you  will  commit  moral  suicide  !  I  shall  not 
live  to  sec  you  so  tried  ;  but  if  I  see  you  prac 
tise  giving  up  a  little  and  trying  to  keep  guard 
at  this  weak  place,  I  may  learn  before  I  die  to 
think  of  that  hour  of  your  trial  without  the 
foreboding  it  gives  me  now." 

That  letter  was  the  last  his  mother  ever  sent 
him.  It  had  been  a  consolation  to  him  that  be 
fore  death  summoned  her,  she  had  at  least  read 


1 4  JUGGERNA  UT: 


his  reply,  assuring  her  of  his  determination 
to  maintain  his  integrity  in  all  circumstances. 

"You  say  truly,"  he  wrote,  "  that  I  never 
surrender  a  purpose  or  fail  to  carry  it  out. 
Reflect,  mother  dear,  that  the  strongest  pur 
pose  I  ever  had  is  this — to  preserve  my  charac 
ter.  I  will  not  fail  to  find  means  for  that 
when  the  time  comes,  as  I  never  fail  to  accom 
plish  objects  of  less  moment." 

"  The  prophecy  of  the  dear  old  mother  is 
fulfilled,"  he  muttered,  while  his  nails  buried 
themselves  in  his  unconscious  palms.  "  The 
time  she  foresaw  has  come,  and  I  have  com 
mitted  suicide.  Thank  God  the  mother  did 
not  live  to  see  !  Thank  God  her  vision  was  no 
clearer  !  She  had  hope  for  me  at  least.  She 
did  not  know." 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  I  5 


III. 


As  he  called  up  pictures  there  in  the  dark, 
Edgar  Braine  saw  himself  a  little  country  boy 
in  Southern  Indiana,  growing  strong  in  the 
sweet,  wholesome  air  of  the  river  and  the  hills, 
and  torturing  his  young  mind  with  questions 
to  which  he  could  not  comprehend  the  an 
swers. 

At  first  his  questioning  had  to  do  with  na 
ture,  whose  wonders  lay  around  him.  He 
wanted  to  know  of  the  river,  Whence  it  came, 
and  how  ;  he  asked  Wherefore,  of  the  hills ;  he 
made  friends  of  all  growing  things,  and  com 
panions  of  those  that  had  conscious  life. 

Then  came  his  father's  death  to  turn  his 
mind  into  new  and  darker  chambers  of  inquiry, 
and  for  a  time  he  brooded,  disposed,  in  loyalty 
to  that  wisdom  which  age  assumes,  to  accept 
the  conventional  dogmas  given  to  him  by  the 
ignorance  about  him,  as  explanations  of  the 
mysteries,  but  unable  to  conceal  their  absurd- 


1 6  JUGGERNAUT: 

ity  from  a  mind  whose  instinct  it  was  to  stand 
face  to  face  with  Doubt  and  to  compel  Truth 
to  lift  her  mask  of  seeming. 

The  loneliness  of  his  life  was  good  for  him 
for  a  time.  It  taught  him  to  find  a  sufficient 
companionship  in  his  own  mind — a  lesson 
which  all  of  us  need,  but  few  learn.  But  the 
time  came  when  his  wise  mother  saw  the  ne 
cessity  of  a  change,  and,  scant  as  her  resources 
were,  she  took  him  to  the  little  city  of  Jeffer 
son,  where  the  schools  were  good  and  com 
panionship  was  to  be  found. 

The  city  was  at  that  time  a  beautiful  corpse. 
It  had  just  died,  and  had  not  yet  become  con 
scious  of  the  fact.  Ten  or  fifteen  years  before, 
a  railroad  running  from  the  State  capital  had 
made  its  terminus  at  Jefferson,  making  the 
river  town  the  one  outlet  of  the  interior.  A 
great  tide  of  travel  passed  through  the  place,  and 
a  large  trade  centred  there.  But  the  course  of 
railroad  development  which  gave  the  city  life, 
destroyed  it  later.  Other  railroads  were  built 
through  the  interior  to  other  river  outlets,  and 
Cincinnati  and  Louisville  took  to  themselves 
what  had  been  Jefferson's  prosperity. 

And  so  when  Edgar  Braine  first  knew  the 
town,  it  had  lost  its  hold  upon  life,  though  it 
had  not  yet  found  out  what  had  happened  to  it. 
The  great  rows  of  warehouses  along  the 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  1 7 

levee,  with  the  legends  "  Forwarding  and  Com 
mission,"  "  Groceries  at  Wholesale  Only," 
"  Flour,  Grain  and  Provisions,"  "Carriage  Re 
pository,"  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  staringly  in 
scribed  upon  their  outer  walls,  were  empty 
now,  and  closed.  In  West  Street,  two  only  of 
the  once  great  wholesale  houses  maintained  a 
show  of  life.  In  one,  an  old  man  sat  alone  all 
day,  and  contemplated  three  bags  of  coffee  and 
two  chests  of  tea,  for  which  no  customer  made 
inquiry.  In  the  other  there  remained  unsold 
half  a  ton  of  iron  bars,  and  a  few  kegs  of  nails, 
to  justify  the  assertion  of  the  signboard  that 
the  proprietors  were  dealers  in  "  Iron  and 
Nails."  The  two  partners  who  owned  the 
place  appeared  there  every  morning,  as  regu 
larly  as  when  their  sales  were  reckoned  in  six 
figures.  They  were  always  scrupulously  neat, 
always  courteously  polite  to  each  other,  and 
always  as  cheerful  and  contented  a  pair  of  busi 
ness  partners  as  one  need  desire  to  see.  Why 
not,  seeing  that  they  both  liked  the  game  of 
checkers,  and  had  nothing  to  do  but  sit  in  the 
doorway  and  play  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end  of  "  business  hours  "  every  day? 

But  the  town  did  not  realize  its  condition 
yet.  Weyer  &  McKee  were  putting  up  a 
new  and  imposing  building  for  the  better  ac 
commodation  of  their  wholesale  grocery  busi- 


1 8  JUGGERNAUT: 


ness,  inattentive  to  the  fact  that  their 
wholesale  grocery  business  had  ceased  to  be. 
Polleys  &  Butler  were  still  issuing  their 
Market  Bulletin  for  the  information  of  their 
"customers,"  not  having  yet  realized  that 
their  customers  had  permanently  transferred 
their  custom  to  Cincinnati.  In  this  interesting 
little  sheet  they  had  not  yet  begun  to  discuss 
"  The  Present  Depression  in  Trade — Its  Cau'se 
and  Cure."  That  came  a  little  later. 

The  city  was  very  well  satisfied  with  itself. 
It  had  water-works  and  gas,  broad  streets,  and 
comfortable  houses  in  such  abundance  that 
every  family  might  have  had  two  for  the  ask 
ing.  The  people  did  not  greatly  mind  their 
loss  of  prosperity.  Those  who  did  mind  had 
already  gone  away ;  those  who  remained  had 
succeeded,  during  the  days  of  activity,  in 
getting  out  of  other  people  enough  to  live 
on  comfortably,  and  were  content  to  enjoy 
leisure  and  occupy  themselves  with  church 
work  and  the  like  for  the  rest  of  their  lives. 

The  boy  did  not  discover  that  anything  was 
amiss  with  Jefferson  until  two  or  three  years 
after  his  arrival  there.  Having  seen  no  other 
city  he  did  not  observe  that  there  was  any 
thing  peculiar  in  the  condition  of  this  one, 
until  he  saw  a  "to  let"  notice  on  the  gor 
geously  decorated  front  of  Fred  Dubachs' 


A   VEILED  RECORD,  1 9 


"  Paintery  "  and  learned  that  Fred  was  about 
to  remove  to  Keokuk.  Fred  was  a  notably 
expert  painter,  and  the  front  of  his  shop  had 
always  a  strong  fascination  for  Edgar.  Fred 
had  lavished  his  best  skill  and  industry  upon 
its  ornamentation  during  the  two  or  three 
years  since  he  had  ceased  to  have  any  painting 
to  do  for  others.  Now  he  had  given  up  and 
was  going  away. 

The  thing  set  the  boy  thinking.  He  re 
flected  that  it  would  be  a  sad  waste  of  time 
and  labor  for  Fred  to  paint  any  more  signs  for 
a  town  which  already  had  some  thousands  no 
longer  serving  any  useful  purpose.  As  he  fol 
lowed  out  this  suggestion  it  dawned  upon  him 
that  perhaps  Jefferson  was  a  city  in  decay,  and 
when  he  had  questioned  the  matter  a  little  fur 
ther,  the  evidence  all  about  him  left  no  room 
for  doubt. 

Then  he  went  home  and  said  to  his  mother: 
"  I  will  not  live  in  Jefferson  after  I  finish  at 
Hanover.  This  town  is  done  for.  I  must  have 
opportunities,  and  there  will  never  be  any  here." 

But  Jefferson's  condition  had  been  educating 
him  all  the  time,  and  shaping  his  character  in 
ways  which  affected  all  his  future.  He  saw 
this  clearly  now  as  he  paced  his  room  in 
Thebes  that  night  after  the  suicide,  and  re 
called  it  all. 


2O  JUGGERNAUT: 


Among  his  schoolmates  in  Jefferson  there 
were  some,  the  sons  of  vulgar  people  who  had 
grown  rich  in  the  rapid  rise  of  the  town. 
These  were  mainly  stupid  and  arrogant,  and 
their  insolence  was  unceasing.  At  first  it  had 
stung  the  sensitive  boy  to  that  kind  of  protest 
which  involves  blows  and  bloody  noses. 

He  was  lithe  of  limb  and  strong,  and  he 
usually  managed  to  get  a  sufficient  revenge  in 
that  way  to  satisfy  him.  But  something  oc 
curred  at  last  to  spoil  the  enjoyment  he  got 
out  of  pommelling  the  young  bullies,  and  to 
show  him  that,  with  all  his  strength  and  agility, 
he  was  meeting  his  adversaries  on  unequal 
terms.  He  accidentally  saw  his  mother  toiling 
late  at  night  over  the  clothes  in  which  he  had 
that  day  fought  Cale  Dodge  to  a  finish.  Cale, 
he  knew,  would  simply  put  on  a  new  suit  next 
day. 

"  I  will  have  no  more  fights  of  that  kind," 
he  said  to  himself.  Then,  after  a  period  of 
silent  thought,  he  said  aloud  : 

"  I  have  better  weapons.  I  will  show  them 
in  class  who  is  master." 

From  that  hour  the  inattention  to  books 
which  had  given  his  mother  some  uneasiness, 
ceased.  He  mastered  every  lesson  days  before 
it  was  assigned  to  him,  and  when  an  opportu 
nity  offered  he  submitted  himself  to  examina- 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  21 

tions  in  advance,  and  passed  into  the  higher 
grades  of  the  high  school,  leaving  his  adversa 
ries  behind. 

In  this  process  he  acquired  two  unquench 
able  thirsts — the  one  for  knowledge,  the  other 
for  power.  He  searched  the  town  library  for 
books  that  might  supplement  the  meagre  in 
struction  of  the  schools.  In  his  search  for 
knowledge  he  found  culture.  General  litera 
ture  opened  its  treasures  to  him,  and  he  read 
everything,  from  Shakespeare  to  Burke's 
Works,  that  the  library  could  supply. 

But  while  all  this  went  on,  his  delight  in  his 
superiority  to  the  youths  who  had  been  inso- 
lent  to  him,  and  were  so  still,  crystallized  more 
and  more  into  a  great  longing  for  power,  and  a 
relentless  determination  to  achieve  it.  Cost 
what  it  might  he  must  be  great,  and  look  down 
upon  these  his  foes.  His  ambition  became  a 
passion,  wild  and  unruly,  but  he  resolutely 
curbed  it  as  one  controls  a  spirited  horse,  and 
for  the  same  reason.  He  did  not  mean  to  let 
the  ambition  run  away  with  his  life  and  wreck 
it  before  the  destination  was  reached. 

In  the  little  college  ten  miles  away,  when  at 
last  he  entered  there,  he  was  said  to  have  no 
ambition,  because  he  lightly  put  aside  the 
petty  prizes  and  honors  for  which  others  strug 
gled  so  eagerly.  His  mates  did  not  dream  how 


22  JUGGERNAUT: 


ambitious  he  was.  He  was  thinking  of  larger 
things.  There  was  a  scholarship  to  be  won, 
and  he  took  that,  because  it  would  spare  him 
his  tuition  fees  ;  but  for  the  class  and  society 
"honors"  he  cared  not  at  all. 

He  made  his  own  all  of  value  that  the  col 
lege  libraries  held  and  when  the  senior  exami 
nations  were  over  he  was  without  a  rival  near 
him  on  that  record  of  achievement  which  de 
termines  who  shall  be  valedictorian.  But  he 
placed  no  value  on  the  empty  honor  so  coveted 
by  others.  A  month  remained  before  Com 
mencement,  and  he  had  no  mind  to  lose  a 
month.  He  said  to  the  President : 

"  I  am  going  away  to-morrow.  If  you 
choose  to  give  me  my  degree  please  take  care 
of  the  diploma  for  me,  if  it  is  not  too  much 
trouble.  Perhaps  I  shall  send  for  it  some 
day." 

"  But  you  are  surely  not  going  to  leave  be 
fore  Commencement  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  I  have  got  all  I  can  out  of  col 
lege.  I  can't  afford  to  waste  a  month  for  noth 
ing." 

"  But  you  are  first-honor-man,  Braine  !  " 

"  Yes,  so  I  hear.  Give  that  to  some  one 
who  cares  for  it.  I  don't." 

The  next  morning  Edgar  Braine  quitted  the 
village  on  foot,  and  without  returning  to  Jef- 


A    VEILED  RECORD. 


ferson,  passed  out  of  the  little  world  of  youth 
into  the  great  world  of  manhood.  His  equip 
ment  consisted  of  his  character,  his  education, 
and  fifty  dollars. 

He  thought  the  character  a  good  one  then. 
He  revised  his  opinion  as  he  paced  the  little 
room  in  Thebes,  and  remembered. 


JUGGEKNA  UT: 


IV. 


THE  youth's  sole  thought  when  he  walked 
out  into  the  world  was  to  find  opportunities — 
for  exactly  what,  he  neither  knew  nor  greatly 
cared.  He  knew  himself  possessed  of  power, 
and  he  sought  a  chance  to  make  it  felt.  He 
was  ambitious  beyond  measure,  but  he  be 
lieved  his  ambition  to  be  safely  under  a  curb 
bit.  He  would  achieve  great  things,  but  their 
greatness  should  minister  to  the  good  of  his 
fellow  men. 

His  selfishness  was  of  that  kind  which  looks 
for  its  best  satisfaction  in  self-sacrifice.  He 
would  spend  himself  in  the  service  of  man 
kind,  and  take  his  reward  in  seeing  the  results 
of  his  labor.  He  had  been  bred  to  high  con 
ceptions  of  human  conduct,  and  had  filled  his 
mind  with  exalted  principles. 

It  was  for  the  exercise  of  powers  thus 
directed  that  he  sought  opportunities.  He 
would  know  what  to  do  with  them,  he  was 


A   VEILED  RECORD. 


very  sure,  when  they  came.  He  selected 
Thebes  as  the  scene  of  his  first  endeavors 
because  it  presented  the  completest  possible 
contrast  to  Jefferson.  As  Jefferson  was  a  city 
that  had  ceased  to  thrive,  so  Thebes  was  one 
that  was  just  about  to  begin  to  thrive,  as  its 
citizens  took  pains  to  notify  the  rest  of  the 
world.  Braine  wanted  to  help  it  thrive,  and 
share  its  thrift. 

The  bread-and-butter  problem  gave  him  no 
trouble.  Thebes  had  plenty  of  work  to  do  in 
getting  ready  to  prosper,  and  Braine  was  pre 
pared  to  do  any  work.  The  shrewd  specula 
tors  who  were  engineering  the  town's  scheme 
of  greatness,  were  quick  enough  to  discover 
the  youth's  capacities,  as  the  race-course 
speculator  is  to  see  the  fine  points  of  a  horse. 
In  whatever  fell  to  him  to  do  he  acquitted 
himself  so  well  that  faith  in  "  young  Braine  " 
soon  gave  place  to  respectful  admiration,  and 
Mose  Harbell  wrote  numberless  paragraphs  in 
the  Thebes  Daily  Enterprise  concerning  "  our 
genial  and  gifted  young  townsman,  Edgar 
Braine,"  in  which,  for  reasons  that  Mose  could 
not  have  explained,  there  was  notably  less  of 
the  "genial"  insolence  of  familiarity  than  was 
common  in  Mose's  literary  productions. 
When  some  one  mentioned  this  in  Mose's 
presence,  his  reply  was  : 


26  JUGGERNAUT: 


"  Well,  somehow  Braine  isn't  the  sort  of  fel 
low  you  feel  like  slapping  on  the  back." 

It  was  Abner  Hildreth  who  first  drew  Braine 
into  relations  with  the  Enterprise. 

There  was  "  one  of  Thebes's  oldest  and  most 
genial  citizens  "-—Jack  Summers  by  name — 
who,  in  addition  to  a  mercantile  business, 
carried  on  a  bank  of  the  kind  that  opens  in  the 
evening  by  preference,  while  Abner  Hildreth, 
in  all  his  career  as  a  banker,  had  preferred 
daylight  hours  for  business. 

Jack  Summers  corrupted  the  youth  of  the 
town,  and  when  one  promising  young  clerk  in 
the  Express  office  was  caught  opening  money 
packages,  his  fall  was  clearly  enough  traced  to 
his  losses  in  Summers's  establishment. 

Hildreth,  as  a  banker  and  business  man, 
objected  to  gambling — of  that  kind.  He  saw 
how  surely  it  must  undermine  the  other  kind 
by  destroying  the  trustworthiness  of  clerks 
and  cashiers.  He  deprecated  it,  also,  as  a 
thing  imperilling  the  young  prosperity  of 
Thebes,  in  which  his  investments,  as  merchant, 
banker,  hotel  proprietor,  mill  owner  and  the 
like,  were  greater  than  those  of  any  other  ten 
men  combined,  while  even  with  the  other  ten 
he  was  a  silent  partner  so  far  as  their  ventures 
seemed  to  him  sound. 

"  The  town  mustn't    get  a  hard  name,"  he 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  2/ 

said  ;  "  Jack  Summers  must  shut  up  his  gam 
bling  shop,  or  get  out  of  Thebes." 

Then  he  sent  for  Edgar  Braine. 

"That  young  fellow,"  he  reflected,  "knows 
how  to  write  with  vim,  force,  pathos,  and 
energy" — a  favorite  phrase  with  Hildreth — 
"  and  he  has  sand  in  him  too.  He  can  skin 
Summers,  and  rub  aqua  fortis  into  the  raw, 
and  he  ain't  afraid  to  do  it." 

This  latter  point  Hildreth  knew  to  be 
important.  Jack  Summers  was  a  reckless  per 
son  of  whom  most  men  in  Thebes  were 
inclined  to  be  somewhat  in  awe.  He  had 
lived  in  the  place  when  the  only  law  there  was 
the  will  of  the  boldest,  enforced  with  a  pistol, 
and  he  had  not  yet  reconciled  himself  to 
milder  methods. 

"  I  want  you  to  score  Jack  Summers  in  the 
Enterprise,  Edgar."  It  was  Hildreth's  habit 
to  go  straight  to  the  marrow  of  his  undertak 
ings.  "  I  want  you  to  drive  him  out  of  town,  or 
compel  him  to  shut  up  his  den.  He  is  ruining 
all  the  boys*,  and  giving  the  town  a  bad  name." 

"  But  will  Podauger  let  me?"  asked  Braine. 

"  Podauger "  was  the  sobriquet  by  which 
old  Janus  Leftwitch — "  Editor  and  Proprietor 
of  the  Thebes  Daily  Enterprise" — had  come 
to  be  known,  by  reason  of  the  ponderous  un- 
readableness  of  his  disquisitions. 


28  JUGGERNAUT: 


"  Podauger  be — blessed  !  (I  never  swear, 
Braine.)  I  oivn  Podauger.  I  can  shut  up  his 
office  to-day  if  I  want  to,  and  assign  him  a 
room  in  the  poorhouse.  He  will  print  what  I 
tell  him  to,  and  Mose  Harbell  will  keep  quiet 
too,  when  I  tell  him  not  to  call  Jack  Sum 
mers  '  our  genial  fellow  citizen  '  again.  The 
only  question  is,  will  you  write  the  articles?  " 

"  I  will,  on  one  condition." 

"  I  didn't  think  you  would  be  afraid." 

"  I'm  not." 

"  What  is  the  condition  then  ?  " 

"  That  I  am  to  be  let  alone.  I  won't  begin 
a  thing  of  that  kind,  and  have  it  hushed  up. 
It  must  go  clear  through  if  I  undertake  it." 

"  That's  right.  I  knew  you  had  sand.  You 
may  go  ahead,  and  you  shan't  be  stopped  by 
anybody — unless  Summers  prepares  your 
corpse  for  the  coroner.  Have  you  thought  of 
that  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  afraid.  The  cause  is  a  good  one. 
That's  all  I  ask." 

"  Very  well.  Now  these  articles  must  be 
editorials.  They'll  have  more  weight  that 
way.  Salivate  the  rascal  every  day,  and  I'll 
back  you  up.  You'd  better  go  armed,  though, 
in  case  Summers  suspects  who  it  is." 

"  I  will  take  care  of  that.  The  first  article 
shall  be  ready  in  an  hour." 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  29 

And  it  was.  Braine  was  too  fresh  from  col 
lege  not  to  begin  it  with  an  allusion  to  Roman 
history,  but  the  people  of  Thebes  were  not 
sufficiently  familiar  with  the  classics  to  resent 
a  reference  of  the  kind.  Besides,  the  allusion 
was  an  apt  one.  It  was  a  reference  to  the 
Roman  method  of  dealing  with  persons  who 
made  themselves  enemies  of  the  State,  and  it 
named  Jack  Summers  as  one  who  bore  pre 
cisely  that  relation  to  Thebes. 

There  was  something  like  an  earthquake  in 
the  town  that  night.  Never  before  had  the 
Enterprise  been  known  to  say  a  harsh  thing  or 
a  vigorous  one,  Podauger  was  never  harsh  in 
utterance,  lest  he  offend  a  subscriber  or  adver 
tiser  ;  he  was  never  vigorous,  because  he  did 
not  know  how  to  be  so.  The  terror  of  Jack 
Summers's  displeasure  was  something  that  no 
body  in  Thebes  had  ever  before  ventured  to 
brave,  and  what  with  surprise,  apprehension, 
and  a  looking-for  of  sensational  results,  the 
little  city  was  in  a  ferment  throughout  the 
night. 

Podauger  had  shut  himself  up  in  his  room, 
and  barred  his  door  before  the  newspaper 
appeared  on  the  streets.  Not  satisfied  with 
these  precautions,  he  determined  to  send  a  flag 
of  truce  to  the  enemy  without  delay.  He 
wrote  in  his  tangled  fashion  : 


30  JUGGERNAUT: 


"  DEAR  MR.  SUMMERS  : 

"I  cannot  rest  till  I  have  acquitted  myself  of  all  re 
sponsibility  for  the  outrageous  assault  upon  the  good 
name  and  repute  of  a  fellow-citizen  for  whom  I  entertain 
so  high  a  respect  as  I  trust  I  have  always  manifested 
toward  you,  which  appeared — or  I  should  say,  was  made 
this  afternoon  upon  you — in  the  newspaper  of  which  I 
am  the  unhappy,  though  till  now  the  happy,  Editor  and 
Proprietor.  I  cannot  explain  my  situation  in  this  affair 
without  a  breach  of  confidence  which  would  imperil  my 
present  and  future  prosperity  ;  but  I  can  assure  you  that 
I  had  no  more  power  to  prevent  this  dastardly  outrage, 
or  to  shut  the  noisome  stuff  out  of  columns  which  I  take 
pride  in  remembering  have  always  been  courteous  in 
their  treatment  of  my  fellow  Thebans,  than  you  are — I 
mean  than  you  had. 

"  I  am  deeply  agitated,  and  perhaps  my  diction  is  not 
as  perspicuous  as  it  is  my  proud  endeavor  to  make  it 
when  I  am  inditing  matter  for  publication,  but  you  can 
make  out  this  much,  my  dear  and  highly  esteemed  friend, 
that  I  shall  not  seek  my  couch  with  any  hope  or  prospect 
of  repose,  until  I  receive  from  you  an  assurance  that  you 
acquit  me  of  responsibility,  and  won't  ask  me  to  make 
an  apology  in  the  Enterprise,  for  reasons  to  which  I 
have  already  alluded  in  reference  to  my  present  and 
temporary  inability  to  control  the  conduct  of  that  journal 
in  matters  relating  to  this  outrageous  affair. 

"  Do  I  make  myself  clear  in  this  the  hour  of  my  agita 
tion  and  humiliation  ?  " 

Janus  Leftwitch's  habit  of  writing  in  this 
fashion  was  so  fixed  that  he  could  not  write 
simply,  even  when  he  was  scared.  Summers 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  31 

understood  him  well  enough,  however,  and 
wrote  him  in  reply  : 

"  Don't  be  scared,  Pod.  Nobody'll  ever  suspect  you. 
You  couldn't  write  that  way  if  you  tried. — JACK." 

The  next  morning  excitement  was  at  fever 
heat.  Curiosity  to  know  who  had  written  the 
article,  was  the  dominant  emotion.  Excited 
apprehension  of  its  author's  speedy  assassina 
tion  came  next. 

Summers  was  in -and  out  of  various  places  of 
business  all  the  morning,  and  in  each  he  de 
clared  that  if  ever  he  learned  who  had  written 
the  article,  he  would  "  shoot  him  like  a  dog." 
Nobody  doubted  the  sincerity  of  the  threat, 
or  the  certainty  of  its  execution. 

About  noon  Summers  was  saying  something 
of  the  kind  in  a  little  crowd  of  business  men 
in  front  of  Hilclreth's  bank,  when  Edear 

o 

Braine  came  up  the  street.  He  cheerily 
greeted  the  company  with  "  Good  morning, 
gentlemen,"  and  then  placed  himself  in  front 
of  Summers,  and  in  a  very  quiet  tone 
said  : 

"  I  hear  you  are  going  to  shoot  the  writer  of 
that  article  about  you,  as  soon  as  vou  find  out 
who  he  is.  It  would  be  a  pity  to  let  you 
shoot  the  wrong  man  by  mistake.  I  should 
never  cease  to  regret  it,  because  I  wrote  the 


32  JUGGERNAUT: 

article  myself,  and  have  just  finished  a  much 
severer  one  for  to-day's  paper." 

This  unexpected  speech  fell  like  a  bomb 
shell  into  the  crowd,  and  Jack  Summers  was 
the  one  worst  stunned  by  it. 

He  stood  staring  at  Braine,  apparently  un 
able  to  comprehend  what  had  happened.  No 
body  had  ever  confronted  him  in  that  daring 
fashion  before,  and  in  the  novel  circumstances 
he  did  not  know  what  to  do.  He  did  nothing 
in  fact,  until  Edgar  turned  to  some  one  else  in 
the  crowd,  and  made  pleased  comment  on  the 
news  that  land  had  been  purchased  by  some 
Pittsburg  people  for  a  new  rolling  mill  in 
Thebes.  Then  Summers  walked  away. 

While  this  was  going  on,  Janus  Leftwitch 
was  in  the  bank  parlor,  talking  earnestly  with 
Abner  Hildreth*  Podauger  was  in  a  panic. 
Jack  Summers,  he  said,  had  many  friends  in 
town,  and  they  would  ruin  the  Enterprise. 

"I  don't  see  how  that  can  be,"  replied 
Hildreth.  "  The  plant  of  the  paper  isn't  worth 
more  than  three  thousand  dollars  ;  I've  lent 
you  money  on  it  up  to  five  thousand  dollars 
already,  and  you're  in  debt  up  to  your  eyes 
still.  It  looks  to  me  as  if  you  had  already 
done  all  the  ruining  in  sight." 

"  But,  Mr.  Hildreth,  that  ought  to  make  you 
the  more  cautious.  You  have  money  in  the 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  33 

Enterprise.  I  have  been  careful  to  make 
everybody  its  friend,  as  much  in  your  interest 
as  mineo" 

"  Yes,  and  I'm  short  a  pile  of  money  in  con 
sequence.'" 

"  That  will  come  around  right  all  in  good 
time.  Thebes  is  growing,  Mr.  Hildreth  ;  her 
wonderful  natural  resources,  situated  as  she 
is — " 

"  Oh,  stop  that  !  I've  read  that  in  your 
editorials  every  day  for  three  years.  Look 
here,  Pod,  I'm  not  ill  disposed  toward  you. 
I'm  willing  to  go  on  supporting  you,  but  I 
must  find  some  cheaper  way  of  doing  it.  I'll 
foreclose  the  cut-throat  mortgage  on  the 
Enterprise  now,  and  give  you  a  place  as  clerk 
on  the  wharf-boat." 

"  But,  my  dear  Mr.  Hildreth—"  broke  in  the 
editor,  with  consternation  and  despair  in  every 
line  of  his  countenance. 

"  There,  don't  thank  me,  old  fellow,"  said 
Hildreth,  interrupting  ;  "  you  know  I  don't 
like  thanks,  and  I  know  you're  grateful.  The 
fact  is,  I  ought  to  have  closed  out  the  Enter 
prise  business  long  ago,  but  I  didn't  want  the 
town  to  be  without  a  paper,  and  I  didn't  know 
anybody  to  edit  it.  I  know  the  man  now. 
I'll  put  Braine  in  charge  to-morrow,  and  you 
can  print  as  affectionate  a  card  of  farewell  this 


34  JUGGERNAUT: 

afternoon,  as  you  please.  Run  along  and 
write  it.  I'm  too  busy  to  talk  longer  now," 
and  with  that  he  bowed  the  fallen  editor  out 
of  the  bank,  and  forever  out  of  a  profession 
which  suited  no  part  of  his  nature,  except  his 
vanity. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  35 


V. 


THE  arrangement  between  Hildreth  and 
Edgar  Braine,  by  which  the  young  man  came 
into  control  of  the  Thebes  Daily  Enterprise, 
was  a  much  less  definite  one  in  its  terms  than 
Abner  Hildreth  was  accustomed  to  make,  ex 
cept  in  those  cases  in  which  indefiniteness 
was  to  his  advantage. 

This  wras  one  of  those  cases. 

He  simply  said  to  Braine  : 

"  Take  the  establishment  and  see  what  you 
can  make  of  it.  You  can  make  it  of  some 
good  to  the  town,  at  any  rate,  and  that's  all  I 
care  for.  I'll  pay  you  a  salary  if  you  like,  or 
you  can  pocket  any  profits  there  are  instead,  if 
you  prefer  that." 

"  I'll  take  the  profits,"  said  Edgar. 

"  Suppose  they  turn  out  to  be  losses  ?  " 

"  Then  the  quicker  I  find  out  my  unfitness 
the  better.  I  don't  want  you  to  pay  me  a 
salary  for  losing  your  money." 


36  JUGGERNAUT: 

"  You've  good  grit,  Edgar,"  exclaimed  the 
elder  man,  admiringly,  "  and  you've  got  '  go  ' ! 
I'll  stand  by  you  and  see  you  win.  You'll 
need  money  for  a  little  while  to  pay  running 
expenses,  and  you  can  have  it  on  your  own 
notes  till  you  get  the  old  hulk  afloat  again. 
I'll  back  you.  Go  in  and  win  !  " 

That  was  all  there  was  of  contract  between 
these  two.  Obviously  the  education  Edgar 
Braine  had  received  at  Hanover  College  was 
deficient  in  certain  particulars. 

The  change  in  the  Enterprise  was  immedi 
ate.  Everybody  bought  it  at  first  to  see  what 
more  the  young  editor  would  have  to  say  in 
scarification  of  Jack  Summers,  and  everybody 
continued  to  buy  it,  because  the  young  editor 
at  once  ceased  to  scarify  Summers,  fling 
ing  him  contemptuously  aside  as  something 
done  for,  and  turning  his  attention  to  a 
more  important  aspect  of  the  same  mat 
ter. 

He  wanted  to  know  why  Jack  Summers  had 
been  allowed  to  maintain  a  gambling  house  in 
Thebes,  without  disguise  and  without  moles 
tation.  He  called  the  public  prosecutor  by 
name,  and  asked  him  what  excuse  he  had  to 
make  for  his  neglect  of  his  sworn  duty.  He 
named  the  respectable  men  who  had  served  on 
the  last  Grand  Jury,  and  requested  them  to 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  37 

say  why  they  had  omitted  to  indict  so  flagrant 
an  offender. 

By  this  time — and  it  was  within  the  first  week 
of  Braine's  editorship — the  languid  contempt 
hitherto  felt  for  the  lifeless  newspaper  had 
changed  to  an  eager  impatience  through 
out  the  town  for  its  appearance  each 
day. 

At  first  there  was  anger  everywhere.  Two 
libel  suits  were  brought,  but  nothing  was  ever 
done  about  them  ;  they  were  meant  to  intimi 
date,  and  they  failed  to  do  it. 

After  awhile  the  community  caught  some 
thing  of  the  editor's  enthusiasm.  Clergymen 
preached  from  the  pulpit  on  the  duties  of 
citizens  as  Grand  Jurors  and  public  officers. 
Finally,  a  new  Grand  Jury  was  assembled,  and 
its  first  act  was  to  indict  Jack  Summers,  who 
promptly  fled  the  city. 

This  was  but  a  beginning.  Braine  struck  at 
wrong  whenever  he  saw  indications  of  it.  He 
introduced  the  element  of  detection  into  his 
work,  and  followed  up  clews  in  a  way  to  which 
the  good  people  of  Thebes  were  wholly  unac 
customed. 

He  did  many  things  merely  to  excite  curi 
osity  and  interest.  These  were  harmless  fool 
eries  for  the  most  part,  and  Braine  justified 
them  on  the  ground  that  they  made  people 


38  JUGGERNAUT: 


read  his  paper,  and  thus  gave  him  opportunity 
for  the  good  work  he  was  doing. 

It  was  this  that  gave  him  joy.  He  had 
power,  and  he  was  using  it  for  the  public 
good.  He  had  borrowed  little  from  Hildreth, 
and  had  repaid  it  easily.  His  newspaper  was 
profitable,  and  the  job  printing  establishment 
connected  with  it  was  doing  all  the  business  of 
that  kind  which  the  city  afforded,  now  that 
he  had  added  large  supplies  of  type,  a  ruling- 
machine,  and  a  steam  press  to  its  equip 
ment. 

At  the  end  of  two  years  of  hard  work  Edgar 
Braine  believed  that  he  had  conquered  the 
tools  of  fortune  and  power.  He  regarded  him 
self  as  the  owner  of  a  prosperous  and  influen 
tial  newspaper.  He  had  an  income  sufficient 
to  justify  a  marriage  to  which  he  looked 
forward  with  eager  longing.  He  saw  no 
obstacle  now  between  him  and  fortune. 


A   VEILED  RECORD,  39 


VI, 

[From  Helen's  Diary.] 

EDGAR  left  me  an  hour  ago.  After  he  said 
good  night,  I  came  up  to  my  room,  took  down 
my  hair,  put  on  a  wrapper,  and  sat  by  the 
open  window,  not  to  think,  but  to  feel. 

After  all  these  months  of  uncertainty — no, 
not  uncertainty,  for  Edgar  was  destined  to  suc 
ceed — after  all  these  months  of  waiting,  we 
have  reached  the  time  when  separation  will 
soon  be  at  an  end. 

I  seem  about  to  be  entering  on  a  new  life, 
as  a  new  woman.  I  am  a  new,  an  unfamiliar 
woman,  to  myself.  I  have  not  realized  it  until 
to-night.  The  change  has  been  so  gradual  that 
I  have  not  realized  any  difference  in  myself. 
My  love  has  passed  through  so  many  phases. 

I  remember,  to-night,  a  time  when  my  love 
contained  but  one  element — trust.  I  remem 
ber  a  particular  day  when  love  was  young  with 


4O  JUGGERNA  UT: 

me, — I  went  into  the  Enterprise  office  with 
Aunt's  chronic  "want," — "A  girl  to  do  gen 
eral  housework — references  required."  It  was 
immediately  after  Edgar  had  offered  himself 
for  a  target  to  Jack  Summers.  There  is  some 
thing  glorious  in  a  man's  inviting  another  man 
to  attack  him — if  he  dares.  I  was  thinking 
about  it  as  I  went  up  the  Enterprise  steps. 
When  I  entered  the  office  Edgar  sat  at  a  funny 
desk  with  peculiar  pigeon  holes— he  has  said 
since  that  he  had  used  it  before  he  took  the 
Enterprise,  and  though  he  could  have  had  one 
that  would  have  been  an  improvement  on  it, 
in  point  of  beauty,  he  had  a  sort  of  sentimen 
tal  feeling  in  regard  to  the  old  one.  He  says 
in  times  of  prosperity  it  will  be  quite  whole 
some  to  look  at  those  collar  boxes,  and  re 
member  the  time  when  he  was  very  thankful 
to  get  paper  collars. 

We  laugh  a  great  deal  over  this,  and  I  am 
going  to  have  the  desk  put  in  o«f — well,  yes, 
in  our  room. 

He  sat  that  day  by  the  desk,  and  Mose  Har- 
bell  had  his  feet  on  the  white-washed  part  of 
the  stove, — Edgar  says  he  always  does  it  after 
his  dinner,  while  he  is  preparing  his  most 
"  genial "  paragraphs. 

A  sunbeam  glanced  across  the  room,  and 
made  the  frayed  edge  of  Edgar's  coat  stand 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  41 

out  beautifully,  but  he  looked  terribly  clean. 
He  didn't  see  me  at  first,  and  I  watched  him  a 
minute  as  he  wrote.  I  loved  him  first,  for  the 
way  in  which  he  grasped  his  pen.  He  was  fin 
ishing  an  editorial  on  the  lack  of  energy  in  his 
esteemed  fellow  citizens  in  putting  down  im 
moral  enterprises  that  were  wrecking  the  uni 
verse  in  general,  and  Thebes  in  particular.  I 
knew  what  kind  of  an  article  it  was,  by  the 
expression  of  his  elbows  on  the  desk,  and  the 
way  he  held  his  chin. 

There,  in  the  office  of  the  Thebes  Daily  En 
terprise,  with  fifty  cents  in  one  hand,  and 
Aunt's  want  in  the  other,  with  Mose  Harbell's 
feet  on  the  stove,  and  the  frayed  edge  of  Ed's 
coat  looming  up  in  the  sunlight,  I,  Helen 
Thayer,  loved  Edgar  Braine,  in  the  year  of 
our  Lord,  18 — •.  Amen. 

I  always  feel  like  pronouncing  the  benedic 
tion  when  I  think  of  that  minute.  It  was 
the  close  of  an  eventless,  careless,  tiresome 
period.  I  sang  the  doxology  in  my  heart — I 
said,  "  and  thus  endeth  the  first  lesson,"  and 
a  number  of  other  appropriate,  religious 
things  like  that.  Well,  after  that,  things 
drifted. 

That  evening  there  was  a  good  deal  about 
love  for  your  neighbor — or  sentiment  after  that 
pattern,  in  the  end  of  that  editorial.  Edgar 


42  JUGGERNA  UT: 


said  he  was  three-fourths  done  with  it  when 
he  looked  up  and  saw  me. 

As  the  days  went  by,  the  Enterprise  seemed 
more  and  more  filled  with  the  milk  of  human 
kindness.  I  take  a  great  deal  of  credit  to  my 
self  for  the  present  exalted  tone  of  the  Thebes 

Daily  E .  Edgar  says  that  I  have  always 

inspired  him  with  one  great  desire — to  be  good 
and  honorable.  He  says  that  no  good  woman 
ever  lived  who  did  not  make  the  best  man  in 
the  world  feel  ashamed  of  himself.  I  am  glad 
of  this.  There  is  something  delicious  in  mak 
ing  one  feel  ashamed  of  himself. 

All  that  time  I  felt  a  peculiar  reverence  for 
him.  It  \vas  a  feeling  almost  enervating.  I 
felt  as  though  walking  on  a  tight-rope — men 
tally.  I  used  to  look  with  awe  upon  the  dig 
nity  of  those  frayed  coat  bindings,  and  the 
bits  of  white  where  the  button  holes  were 
worn — Ed  called  it  "  the  towel  "  showing,  I  be 
lieve. 

Then  that  period  passed,  and  there  came  a 
day  when  he  stopped  in  on  his  way  from  the 
office  to  see  if  Aunt  wanted  to  put  in  her 
chronic  want  again  the  next  evening.  That 
day  we  sat  in  front  of  the  fire  talking  for  a  lit 
tle  minute  about  Ed's  schemes  for  advancing 
the  universe  generally,  and  Thebes,  again,  in 
particular. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  43 

Though  I  was  feeling,  as  usual,  on  a  great 
mental  strain — as  I  always  did  when  with  him, 
and  indulging  in  an  extraordinary  deference 
for  the  "  towel  "  around  the  button  holes,  I 
became  so  enthused,  and  had  such  a  desire  to 
have  a  hand  in  advancing  something,  too,  that 
I  leaned  forward,  and  he  leaned  forward,  and 
—well,  that  ended  the  third  lesson.  We  kissed 
each  other.  I  have  never  since  felt  the  mental 
strain  that  I  did  before  that,  when  with  him. 
Since  then,  we  have  seemed  just  like  two 
human  beings  who  lived  every  moment  of  the 
time  when  together. 

There  is  something  terribly  equalizing  in  a 
kiss.  With  it,  there  came  a  great  tenderness 
for  him,  and  as  we  no  longer  seemed  to  be 
two  distinct  and  separate  beings,  but  just  one, 
that  tenderness  extended  to  myself.  It  seemed 
to  grow  to  a  universal  tenderness.  I  have 
even,  at  moments,  felt  tender  toward  Mose 
Harbell  when  passing  his  house,  and  happening 
to  see  his  wife,  nine  children,  and  four  dogs, 
his  sister  and  his  mother-in-law. 

We  will  be  married  next  month, — Ed  and  I, 
not  Mose  Harbell  and  I! 

Ed  will  take  to  linen  collars  next  week,  and 
buy  a  new  desk  for  the  editorial  sanctum  ;  and 
when  I  am  able  to  have  a  "  girl,"  I  can  put  in 
my  "  want  "  for  nothing. 


44  JUGGERNAUT: 


Ed  says  that  for  a  time  we  can  put  on  a 
great  deal  of  style  in  the  manner  of  serving 
our  meals,  and  therefore  won't  have  to  Have  so 
much  to  eat.  One  thing  is  decided ;  we  are 
to  have  some  kind  of  a  house  to  live  in  by  our 
selves,  instead  of  boarding. 

Ed  declares  that  it  is  but-a  question  of  time 
when  he  shall  put  on  a  fresh  linen  collar  every 
day,  and  we  shall  be  able  to  furnish  four 
rooms  of  a  house.  At  present,  the  editor  will 
be  very  well  satisfied  with  three — and  me. 

I  am  at  once  to  become  a  member  of  the 
staff.  I  am  going  to  "  do  "  the  society  items. 
Ed  says  I  am  capable  of  working  into  such 
things  beautifully.  I  am  so  thankful  that  at 
last  I  may  be  an  assistant  in  advancing  things. 
I  feel  that  it  is  half  the  happiness  of  life  to  be 
able  to  be  a  co-worker  with  him.  Last  night 
I  suggested  the  points  for  an  editorial.  He 
was  amazed  at  its  force,  and  delighted.  I  was 
amazed  and  delighted  myself.  I  think,  to 
gether,  we  shall  be  able  to  make  Thebes  some 
thing  to  be  proud  of  yet.  The  editor  says  it 
will  be  suck  a  relief  to  have  some  society 
notes  that  are  not  strictly  "  genial." 

I  wonder  if  a  new  thought  that  has  taken 
possession  of  me  is  unmaidenly?  I  think  not. 
At  any  rate,  if  it  is  not  maidenly  it  is  very 
womanly.  I  have  a  sudden  longing  to  rear 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  45 

six  children.  I  make  this  the  limit,  but  I  want 
six.  A  half  dozen.  I  want  to  teach  six  chil 
dren  to  be  great  and  good  as  their  father 
is,  and  I  want  to  show  their  father  how  well 
I  can  do  this.  I  want  to  instil  the  idea  of 
advancement  into  six  embryonic  men  and 
women,  that  in  after  years,  when  I  am  old,  I 
can  say  to  the  world  :  "  You  owe  me  some 
thing;  look  at  these  six  citizens."  I  think  six 
would  be  a  very  commendable  showing.  I 
think  I  could  feel  that  I  had  paid  my  debt 
to  humanity. 

I  am  suddenly  seized  with  all  sorts  of  ex 
alted  aspirations.  It  makes  a  strange  differ 
ence  in  one,  this  deciding  to  be  married. 

I  solemnly  vow  this  night,  that  my  life 
shall  be  spent  in  an  earnest  effort  to  emulate 
my  husband,  Edgar  Braine,  for  so  good  a  man 
does  not  live. 


46  JUGGERNA  UT: 


VII. 

THIS  was  the  situation  of  affairs  with  Edgar 
Braine  when  he  graciously  spared  the  ciga 
rette-smoking  apprentice,  and  passed  into  his 
editorial  sanctum  on  the  morning  of  his  sui 
cide. 

He  was  putting  the  sunshine  of  his  own 
hopefulness  into  an  article  on  the  practical 
means  of  promoting  Thebes's  prosperity,  when 
Abner  Hildreth  entered. 

"  You're  a  worry  to  me,  Braine,  when  I 
think  of  you,"  said  the  banker,  after  a  greet 
ing. 

"Why,  how's  that?     I'm  sure — 

"Oh,  don't  let  it  trouble  you.  It's  this 
way.  As  a  banker,  I  pride  myself  on  knowing 
how  to  size  a  man  up.  The  man  who  can't  clo 
that,  to  a  hair,  had  better  let  banking  alone 
and  devote  himself  to  some  quiet  business, 
like  preaching  the  gospel,  or  running  a  saw 
mill.  I  thought  I'd  sized  you  up  to  a  fraction 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  47 

when  I  put  you  in  here,  and  as  to  the  paper  I 
had.  I  knew  you'd  make  it  the  livest  sheet  in 
the  Mississippi  Valley,  and  you've  done  it;  I 
knew  you'd  make  it  push  Thebes  with  a  forty 
horse-power,  and  you've  done  that  too.  But 
I  missed  badly  on  one  point,  and  it  bothers 
me.  It  undermines  my  confidence  in  my 
judgment." 

"  In  what  particular  have  I  disappointed 
you,  Mr.  Hildrcth?" 

"Well,  that's  hardly  what  I  mean.  I'm  not 
disappointed.  But  I  missed  badly  as  to  your 
business  capacity.  I  knew  you  were  smart  at 
writing,  and  all  that,  but  I  didn't  know  you 
had  such  a  head  for  business  on  your  shoul- 
ders.  I  expected  to  have  to  lift  you  out  of 
money  holes  every  six  months  or  so,  and  was 
ready  to  do  it,  but  bless  me,  if  you  haven't 
made  a  business  go  of  the  thing  from  the 
start.  You're  not  in  debt  much,  are  you — for 
the  office  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Not  a  cent,  for  the  office  or  myself.  I  get 
enough  to  live  on  out  of  the  paper,  and  have 
bought  new  type,  a  new  steam  press,  a  ruling- 
machine,  and  other  things  besides.  The 
paper  will  pay  me  a  good  income  now." 

"That's  splendid!"  said  the  banker,  in  ad 
miration  ;  "  that  means  you've  put  the  shop 
ten  thousand  dollars  to  the  fore.  Good ! 


48  JUGGERNA  UT: 


You've  been  worth  a  hundred  thousand  to  me, 
and  the  laws  only  knows  what,  to  Thebes. 
Now,  such  a  business  head  as  you've  got 
ought  n't  to  be  wasted  on  a  single  little  busi 
ness  like  this,  and  I've  made  up  my  mind  to 
take  you  into  bigger  things.  That's  what  I'm 
here  for  to-day." 

Edgar  expressed  his  gratitude  for  the  bank 
er's  appreciation  and  good  will,  and  declared 
his  willingness  to  take  hold  of  larger  things 
whenever  opportunity  should  offer. 

"  Well  now,  there's  this  special  election. 
The  Common  Council  will  order  it,  you 
know,  for  the  twenty-fifth.  There's  only  one 
thing  to  be  voted  on,  and  that  is  the  proposi 
tion  to  give  the  Central  Railroad  the  right  to 
run  down  the  levee  to  the  Point,  and  take  the 
Point  for  a  depot  and  wharf." 

'Yes,  I  know.  I  have  an  article  ready  on 
the  subject.  I  haven't  discussed  it  yet,  be 
cause  I  want  to  kill  it  at  one  blow  and  see 
that  it  stays  dead." 

"  But  I  think  you  don't  understand  it  just 
right,  Braine,  and  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about 
it." 

"  Certainly  I  understand  it.  You  and  I 
talked  it  over  three  days  ago,  you  remember. 
I  understand  perfectly  that  the  thing  is  a  trick 
to  rob  Thebes  of  her  most  fruitful  source  of 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  49 

revenue,  by  giving  the  levee,  and  with  it  the 
exclusive  right  to  collect  wharfage,  to  this  rail 
road  crowd.  I  know  the  resolution  to  be 
voted  on  has  been  drawn  so  as  to  make  it  seem 
nothing  more  that  a  grant  of  right  of  way,  but 
that  it  really  authorizes  the  Common  Council 
to  give  away  the  levee  and  the  wharfage  rights 
absolutely.  I  have  found  out  that  our  rascally 
aldermen  intend  to  do  just  that,  and  I  mean  to 
find  out  how  much  they  have  been  paid  for 
doing  it  and  who  has  paid  them.  But  in  the 
mean  time,  I  intend  to  defeat  the  whole  ras 
cally  scheme  at  the  polls,  by  exposing  it." 

"  Now,  wait  a  minute,  Brainc,  and  don't  go 
off  half-cocked.  Really,  that's  your  one  fault, 
and  you  must  cure  it.  Let  me  tell  you  about 
this  thing.  I  felt  as  you  do  about  it,  but  since 
we  talked  it  over,  I've  had  more  light.  I've 
been  in  correspondence  with  the  railroad  peo 
ple,  you  know,  and  I  understand  their  plans 
better  now.  I  have  a  letter  from  Duncan  this 
morning,  in  which  he  says, — let  me  see,"  glanc 
ing  over  the  letter,  and  finding  out  the  part  he 
wanted  to  read.  "  Oh,  yes,  here  it  is  :  '  You 
quite  understand  me  now.  You're  one  of 
us ' — no,  that  isn't  it — that  refers  to  another 
matter.  Ah  !  I  have  it :  '  We  depend  upon  you 
to  see  the  thing  through  in  that  charter  elec 
tion.  Young  Braine  will  certainly  kill  it  if  he 


5O  JUGGERNAUT: 


isn't  gagged.  Why  not  let  him  in  on  the 
ground  floor  a  little  ?  He  may  be  of  great  use 
to  us  in  carrying  out  the  other  matter,  and  if 
we  don't  control  him,  he's  sure  to  do  us  a  great 
deal  of  damage.  Can't  you  explain  the  thing 
to  him,  and  make  him  see  it  in  its  right  light  ? ' 
There,  I  oughtn't  to  have  read  the  letter  to 
you  because  I  can't  read  it  all.  Some  of  it's 
confidential,  and  hearing  only  a  scrap  that  way, 
the  expressions  seem  blind  and  misleading  to 
you." 

"  I  think  I  understand  better  than  you  sup 
pose,  Mr.  Hildreth.  This  man  Duncan  has 
bought  your  favor  for  his  scheme  ;  you  have 
been  fighting  the  ring,  not  to  break  it,  but  to 
break  into  it,  and  you've  succeeded.  Now  the 
fellow  wants  to  buy  me.  He  can't  do  it,  that's 
all." 

"  Very  well,  only  don't  think  Abner  Hildreth 
a  fool.  I  didn't  blunder  into  reading  that  part 
of  the  letter  to  you.  I  did  it  on  purpose.  I 
wanted  you  to  understand  the  lay  of  the  land  ; 
and  decide  for  yourself.  What  are  you  going 
to  do  about  it?  " 

"  I'm  going  to  expose  the  whole  criminal 
conspiracy.  I'm  going  to  fight  this  greedy 
gang  of  speculators,  and  I'm  going  to  beat 
them  at  the  polls." 

"  How  will  you  go  about  all  that  ?  " 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  5  I 

"  Iii  the  Enterprise." 

"  But  I  ou>n  the  Enterprise,  you  remembei 
Braine,  and  naturally  you  can't  do  it  in  my  pa 
per.  I've  never  asked  you  to  help  me  in  any 
of  my  enterprises,  but  I  shan't  let  you  use  the 
paper  to  hurt  the  biggest  one  I  ever  engaged 
in.  You  can't  do  this  in  any  other  paper, 
because  you've  driven  the  Argus  out  of  town, 
and  I  took  pains  to  buy  the  Item  this  morning 
early,  on  the  chance  of  its  being  turned  against 
me.  I've  got  a  bill  of  sale  of  the  whole  con 
cern,  stock,  lock,  and  barrel,  in  my  pocket 
now  !" 

"  My  "God  !"  exclaimed  Braine,  for  the  first 
time  realizing  his  helplessness,  and  the  conse 
quences  it  involved  with  respect  to  his  mar 
riage  and  his  future. 

"  Don't  swear,  Edgar.  It's  immoral.  I'm  a 
religious  man  myself,  and  might  put  the  mat 
ter  in  a  stronger  way  ;  but  you're  not  a  pro 
fessor  of  religion,  and  so  I  only  say  its  im 
moral." 

Edgar  sat  thinking  for  ten  minutes,  during 
which  neither  man  spoke.  Then  Hildreth  said  : 

"  You  mustn't  take  an  unbusiness-like  view 
of  this  thing,  Edgar — " 

"  Call  me  by  my  last  name,  please — some 
how  I  like  it  better,"  interrupted  the  young 
man. 


52  JUGGERNAUT: 


"  Oh,  all  right.  As  I  was  saying,  you 
oughtn't  to  look  at  this  thing  in  your  high  and 
mighty  way.  It's  unbusiness-like.  It  isn't 
practical.  Let  me  explain  a  little.  This  is 
a  great  business  enterprise,  far-reaching,  and 
sure  to  make  Thebes  great.  The  men  who  are 
engineering  it  and  putting  their  money  into  it, 
naturally  want  some  return.  They  ask  this 
right  of  way— 

"  And  intend  to  steal  the  whole  levee  under 
cover  of  a  swindling  document,"  broke  in 
Braine. 

"  Now  don't  get  excited,  and  use  harsh 
terms.  These  men  want  certain  privileges 
in  return  for  making  Thebes  a  great  railroad 
centre,  and  the  Common  Council  is  willing  to 
make  the  grant  as  soon  as  the  people,  by  a 
vote,  give  them  authority  under  the  law. 
You  have  thought  it  would  be  your  duty  to 
oppose  the  thing,  but  I  have  shown  you  its 
nature,  and  asked  you  to  change  your  opinion. 
You  can  carry  this  election  by  the  influence  of 
the  Enterprise.  We  ask  you  to  do  it,  and  tell 
you  that  if  you  do  you  shall  be  let  in  on  the 
ground  floor.  I'll  make  that  more  definite. 
If  you  help  us,  on  the  day  after  the  election 
the  Enterprise — good-will,  business,  presses, 
type,  and  everything,  shall  be  Edgar  Braine's, 
absolutely,  to  do  what  he  pleases  with,  and  in 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  53 

any  political,  or  other  aspirations  he  may  have, 
he  will  enjoy  the  support  of  the  moneyed  in 
terest  of  the  State.  If  you  refuse  to  help, 
why,  naturally,  I  must  put  a  man  in  charge  of 
the  Enterprise  who  will.  He  is  at  my  office 
now." 

Braine  said  nothing  for  a  longtime.  He  was 
taking  account  of  his  situation.  He  had 
thought  himself  prosperous.  In  fact,  if  he 
broke  with  Hildreth,  he  had  scarcely  more 
than  the  fifty  dollars  with  which  he  had  come 
to  Thebes  several  years  before.  He  might 
have  saved  a  few  thousands  from  the  earnings 
of  the  Enterprise,  but  he  had  preferred,  in  his 
eagerness  to  make  the  paper  successful,  to 
spend  the  money  in  improvements.  All  his 
plans  had  been  laid  with  reference  to  his  con 
tinuance  in  his  present  position,  with  the  cer 
tain  income  it  secured.  But  Abner  Hildreth 
held  all  his  prospects  and  all  his  plans  in  the 
hollow  of  his  hand,  to  do  what  he  would  with 
them. 

It  was  a  choice  between  certain  ruin  on  the 
one  hand,  and  practically  limitless  success  on 
the  other,  for  he  saw  more  clearly  than  Hil 
dreth  did,  how  potent  a  lever  the  influence  of 
the  "  moneyed  interest  "  might  be  made,  and 
how  much  more  perfectly  he  could  command 
its  aid  than  Abner  Hildreth  dreamed. 


54  JUGGERNAUT: 


The  temptation  was  frightful.  The  horror 
of  such  iniquity  in  his  soul  was  not  less  so. 

"This  craze  of  speculation,  which  seems  to 
dominate  everything  of  late  years  in  our 
money-cursed  country,  is  a  very  Juggernaut," 
he  said  at  last,  in  bitterness  of  spirit,  and  less 
to  Hildreth  than  to  himself. 

"Juggernaut?"  responded  the  banker, 
"  that's  the  Hindoo  car  that  runs  over  people 
and  crushes  'em,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Yes.  Well  now,  let  me  call  your  attention 
to  an  interesting  fact  about  that  car.  Did  you 
ever  observe  that  it  never  runs  over  the  people 
that  ride  on  it  ?  " 

"Yes.  I've  observed  that.  I'm  not  so  sure 
that  the  analogy  will  hold,  however.  One 
might  get  jostled  off,  and  fall  under  the 
wheels.  But  I  seem  to  be  almost  under  now 
He  hesitated  a  moment  more,  and  then— 
"  For  safety  I'll  get  on,  and  trust  to  my  grip  to 
hold  on.  I'll  favor  the  proposal,  Mr.  Hildreth, 
and  I'll  carry  it  through  at  the  polls." 

Then  changing  his  tone  to  one  a  little  less 
grim  and  more  cheerful,  he  went  on  :  "  But  our 
contract  has  been  rather  indefinite  in  the  past. 
Would  you  mind  signing  an  agreement  now  as 
to  the  transfer  of  the  Enterprise  to  me  on  the 
day  after  the  election  ?  " 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  55 

"  No,  certainly  not.     I'll  write  it." 

He  wrote  hurriedly  and  signed.  Braine 
looked  over  the  paper  and  tore  it  up. 

"  That's  worthless,"  he  said.  "  A  contract 
without  consideration  can't  be  enforced.  I 
want  a  legally  binding  agreement  this  time. 
I'll  draw  it." 

He  did  so,  and  then  read  it  to  the  banker, 
who  assented  to  its  terms,  and  was  about  to 
sign  it  when  Braine  stopped  him. 

"  Wait  a  moment"  he  said  ;  then  raising  his 
voice  he  called  :  "  Mikey  !  " 

The  apprentice  appeared,  trembling  lest 
judgment  clay  had  come  for  the  sin  of  smoking 
cigarettes. 

"I  want  you  to  see  Mr.  Hildreth  and  me 
sign  this  paper.  Never  mind  reading  it,"  he 
said,  laying  a  blotting  pad  over  the  lines,  as  he 
saw  the  boy's  eyes  wandering  curiously  over 
the  document.  When  the  two  had  signed,  he 
turned  to  Mikey  and  said: 

"  Now,  write  the  word  '  witness'  in  that  cor 
ner,  and  sign  your  own  name  under  it." 

When  the  lad  had  finished,  Braine  turned  to 
Ilildreth,  who  was  beamingly  about  to  shake 
hands  with  him,  and  said  in  a  strangely  cold 
and  haughty  tone  : 

"I  believe  that  finishes  our  business,  Mr. 
Hildreth,  and  as  I  have  some  matters  to  dis- 


5  6  JUG  GEKNA  UT  : 

cuss  with  Mikey,  I  beg  you  will  excuse  me. 
Good  morning,  sir." 

Hildreth  passed  out  of  the  office,  astonish 
ment,  vexation,  and  triumph  struggling  for 
mastery  in  his  mind. 

"  He's  a  cool  hand,  sure,"  he  muttered, 
"to  bow  me  out  in  that  fashion,  just  when  I'd 
bought  him,  body  and  breeches  !  Somehow  I 
can't  feel  quite  easy  about  this  thing  yet.  He 
didn't  act  as  though  he  thought  he  belonged 
to  me.  Wonder  if  he's  going  to  burst  the 
whole  thing  up  after  all !  By — George !  I 
haven't  got  a  scrap  of  writing  to  hold  him  by! 
I  haven't  got  a  line  binding  him  to  any 
thing  ! " 

With  that  he  stopped  short  in  the  street, 
and  after  a  moment's  reflection,  muttered 
again  : 

"  Abner  Hildreth,  you're  a  fool !  You  have 
sized  that  fellow  up,  and  you  know  he  is  too 
honorable  to  go  back  on  his  promise.  Well, 
of  course,  there  ain't  so  much  to  be  said  about 
his  honor  now — but  he  won't  lie,  that's  certain. 
He'll  keep  his  part  of  this  bargain." 

Braine  when  left  alone  with  Mikey,  said  to 
the  lad : 

"  Mikey,  how  far  did  you  go  in  arithmetic 
at  school?  " 

"  Clear  troo,  sir." 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  57 

"  What  did  you  get  on  examination  ?  " 

"  Eighty-six,  sir." 

"  Well,  here's  a  sum  I  want  you  to  work  out 
for  me.  If  a  boy,  fourteen  years  old,  smokes 
a  dozen  cigarettes  a  day  at  five  cents  a  dozen, 
allowing  compound  interest  on  the  money, 
how  much  will  the  smoking  cost  him  by  the 
time  he's  twenty-one?  It  will  be  a  long  sum 
to  do.  If  you  get  tired  while  working  at  it, 
here's  a  good  Havana  cigar  to  smoke  for  a 
rest.  Do  the  sum  to-night,  and  bring  me  the 
answer  in  the  morning.  Go  along  to  your 
work  now." 

Then  Edgar  Braine  sat  down  to  write,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  in  advocacy  of  what 
he  believed  to  be  iniquity.  The  article  was 
the  most  difficult  one  he  had  ever  tried  to 
write,  but  when  done,  it  was  almost  startling 
in  its  vigor  and  persuasiveness. 

When  he  had  read  it  over,  he  thought : 

"  It  almost  convinces  me  that  the  thing  is 
right,  and  /  know  better.  It  will  surely  con 
vince  men  who  don't  know  better.  It's  a 
strange  experience  for  a  man  who  has  con 
scientiously  written  for  the  public  instruction, 
to  turn  about  and  write  with  a  deliberate  pur 
pose  to  deceive  the  public  and  wrong  it.  But 
the  Edgar  Brame  who  worked  for  the  good  of 
his  fellow-men  is  dead.  He  committed  suicide 


58  JUGGERNAUT: 


to-day.  By  the  way,  he  ought  to  have  a  good 
obituary.  I'll  write  it." 

And  he  did.     The  article  began  : 

"  There  died  in  this  town  to-day,  a  young 
man  much  esteemed  by  his  fellow-citizens. 
The  young  man  was  known  to  all  our  readers  as 
Edgar  Braine,  the  editor.  He  died  by  his  own 
hand,  and  no  cause  for  the  deed  is  known  to 
the  public." 

It  went  on  to  give  a  sketch  of  the  suicide's 
life,  and  an  analysis  of  his  character,  and  the 
purposes  which  had  animated  him  in  his 
work. 

When  the  foreman  got  the  obituary  with 
"must"  written  upon  it,  he  was  thrown  into  a 
panic,  and  rushed  into  the  editorial  room  to 
remonstrate. 

"  I  can't  believe  you  mean  to  kill  yourself, 
Mr.  Braine — 

"  Be  perfectly  easy  in  your  mind,  Snede- 
ker,"  replied  Braine,  with  a  smile,  "  I'm  not 
going  to  do  myself  any  further  harm." 

The  foreman  wanted  to  ask  what  the  thing 
meant,  but  was  not  encouraged  by  the  look  on 
Braine's  face  to  indulge  his  curiosity.  He 
"  set  "  the  article  himself,  thinking  that  should 
the  editor  change  his  mind  about  it,  it  would 
be  just  as  well  not  to  give  the  journeymen  a 
chance  to  talk.  But  Braine  did  not  recall  it. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  59 

He  corrected  the  proof  slip,  and  went  on  with 
his  work. 

When  the  Enterprise  came  out  with  the 
obituary  of  its  editor  staring  at  its  readers  be 
tween  turned  rules,  the  little  city  was  thrown 
into  something  like  a  convulsion.  It  was 
soon  learned  at  the  newspaper  office  that 
Braine  was  not  dead — Abner  Hildreth  was 
the  first  to  make  the  inquiry — and  the  good 
news  spread  rapidly  through  the  excited  com 
munity.  But  what  did  the  obituary  mean  ? 

Conjecture  busied  itself  with  an  effort  to 
find  a  solution  for  the  mystery;  for  wildly,  per 
sonal  and  audacious  as  journalism  was  in  small 
western  towns  at  that  time,  the  effrontery  of 
this  stroke  startled  the  community.  One  wise 
one  suggested  that  Mose  Harbell  must  have 
done  the  thing  for  a  joke,  as  he  had  manifestly 
done  the  mackerel  story  in  the  same  issue  of 
the  paper  ;  but  that  theory  was  unanimously 
rejected  as  soon  as  it  was  observed  that  the 
article  did  not  once  call  Braine  "genial." 

Finally  the  community  settled  down  to  the 
conviction  that  this  was  only  another  of 
Braine's  devices — a  trifle  more  startling  than 
the  others — for  exciting  interest  in  the  paper, 
and  making  it  a  subject  of  universal  talk. 

Abner  Hildreth  alone  understood,  and  he 
was  satisfied  to  be  silent. 


60  JUGGERNA  UT: 


VIII. 

As  the  sun  rose  after  his  night  of  tramp 
ing  and  troubled  reminiscence,  Edgar  Braine 
resolutely  put  the  past  out  of  his  mind,  and 
turned  to  the  future. 

"The  old  Edgar  is  dead,"  he  said  ;  "let 
us  see  what  we  can  do  for  the  new  Edgar." 

But  before  attacking  that  problem,  he 
cleared  his  head  by  going  out  to  the  little 
shed  that  served  him  for  a  bath  house,  filling 
his  home-made  shower-bath  with  fresh  water 
and  drenching  himself  in  the  chill  air  of  the 
June  morning.  When  dressed,  all  the  weari 
ness  of  watching  was  gone,  his  pulse  was  full 
and  his  mind  clear. 

He  called  across  the  street  and  bade  the 
negro  caterer  bring  him  a  cup  of  coffee,  and 
not  until  it  came  did  he  permit  himself  to  think 
of  anything  more  important  than  the  beauty 
of  the  morning,  and  a  pet  scheme  he  had  of 
persuading  the  aldermen  of  Thebes  to  offer 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  6 1 

citizens  some  sort  of  inducement  to  plant  more 
permanent  trees  among  the  quick  growing  and 
quick  decaying  cotton-woods  of  the  streets. 

When  the  coffee  came,  he  dismissed  all 
these  things,  and  set  himself  to  work  out  some 
problems. 

"  Hildreth  thinks  he  has  made  himself  my 
master,"  he  thought,  "  and  Duncan  and  the 
Boston  crowd  are  sure  of  it.  They  intend  to 
make  me  serviceable  to  them,  and  kindly 
mean  to  toss  a  financial  bone  or  two  to  me 
now  and  then.  Thank  you  very  much,  gentle 
men,  but  the  relation  you  propose  doesn't  suit 
me.  I  prefer  to  occupy  the  place  of  master 
myself.  It  suits  my  peculiar  temperament 
better." 

Saying  this  in  imagination,  he  began  to 
think  earnestly  of  means. 

His  first  task  was  to  discover  as  accurately 
as  possible  what  the  plans  of  the  speculative 
combination  were, — to  spy  out  the  camp  which 
he  meant  to  conquer. 

The  levee,  which  the  Common  Council  was 
about  to  cede  to  the  Central  Railroad,  cov 
ered  the  whole  water-front  of  Thebes  available 
for  steamboat-landings,  wharfs,  grain-elevators, 
warehouses,  and  the  like.  To  Thebes,  the 
loss  of  the  ground-rents  and  wharf-chanres 

<->  o 

would  be  a*  great  sacrifice,  but  the  value  of  the 


62  JUGGERNAUT: 


privilege  in  that  way  was  clearly  not  enough 
to  account  for  the  eagerness  of  the  railroad 
people  to  secure  it.  They  had  other  things  in 
mind — indeed,  there  had  been  a  reference  to 
other  things  in  Duncan's  letter.  It  was  Edgar 
Braine's  first  care  to  find  out  what  those  other 
things  were. 

He  reflected  that  another  railroad — the 
Northern — was  in  process  of  extension  to 
Thebes.  Upon  consideration,  he  saw  that  the 
grant  of  the  levee  to  the  Central  would  effect 
ually  cut  off  the  Northern  from  a  terminus  on 
the  river.  "  That,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  will 
enormously  depress  Northern  stock,  as  soon 
as  the  effects  of  the  cession  are  under 
stood.  Then,  this  crowd""  will  buy  it  up  for 
a  song,  consolidate  with  the  Central  and 
make  a  Union  Depot  at  the  Point.  Yes 
—I  see.  That's  the  first  part  of  the  game. 
Then  there's  the  Southern  connection.  They 
mean  to  build  the  twenty-five  miles  of  road  be 
tween  here  and  Columbia  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river,  and  probably  lease  the  whole  system 
from  that  point,  south.  That  will  give  them 
complete  control  of  a  vast  system  all  centring 
here  in  Thebes.  They'll  establish  a  railroad 
ferry  across  the  river,  of  course.  Oh,  by 
Jove !  "  he  cried,  starting  up  in  excitement, 
"  TJierc  arc  two  sides  to  tJiis  river  !  " 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  63 

With  that  he  hastily  finished  his  toilet  by 
putting  on  a  paper  collar,  thinking,  as  he  did 
so:  "I  must  take  to  linen,  I  suppose,  now 
that  I  am  to  be  a  great  financier." 

After  he  was  dressed,  he  hastily  wrote  a  note 
to  Helen,  which  began  with  the  greeting  he 
sent  her  every  morning,  and  continued  with  a 
few  loving  words  as  to  their  approaching  mar- 


"  I  have  leased  the  little  cottage,  with  the  bed  of  sweet- 
williams  in  front,  clear — by  the  way,  I  expect  you  to  call 
them  sweet  Edgars  in  your  splendid  loyalty — with  an 
option  of  buying  it  at  the  end  of  two  years.  It  will  be 
good  property  to  own,  but  you  shall  not  live  there  long, 
dear.  I  have  grown  ambitious  since  you  consented  to 
be  my  partner.  I  shall  make  money  and  reputation,  and 
surround  you  with  every  luxury — for  which  you  do  not 
in  the  least  care.  I  shall  place  you  where  your  superior 
intellectual  and  social  gifts  will  have  play.  You  don't 
care  for  that  either?  Ah  !  but  you  will,  when  you  find 
how  greatly  your  social  supremacy  will  aid  me  in  my  more 
masculine  ambitions.  When  you  are  my  wife,  I  shall 
be  not  twice,  but  ten  times  the  man  I  am  now.  But 
first,  1  must  teach  you  to  appreciate  yourself,  dear,  and 
convince  you  that  I  am  not  the  infatuated  lover  you 
think  me,  when  I  tell  you  how  superior  you  are  to  other 
women.  Abner  Hildreth  told  me  yesterday  that  I  have 
a  remarkable  head  for  business  ;  well,  the  best  justifica 
tion  my  vanity  has  for  accepting  his  opinion,  is  that  I  have 
had  the  shrewdness  to  recognize  your  worth,  and  to  secure 
you  for  my  partner.  That's  a  joke  not  to  my  taste,  Helen 


64  JUGGERNAUT: 


dear,  but  I  haven't  time  to  write  this  sheet  over.  You 
know  I  marry  you  simply  because  I  love  you,  and  that  I 
would  not  profane  my  thought  of  you  by  associating  you, 
even  in  my  mind,  with  the  things  of  this  world.  But  I 
do  want  to  see  you  shine.  I  want  everybody  to  know 
your  superiority  as  well  as  I  do.  I  am  ambitious  for 
you,  because  I  love  you  and  wish  to  exalt  you." 

A  little  later,  Edgar  Braine,  with  a  gun  and 
game-bag,  crossed  the  river  in  a  skiff.  It  was 
his  custom  to  shoot  a  little  in  the  woods  beyond 
the  great  stream  twice  or  thrice  a  week,  for  ex 
ercise  and  for  love  of  the  woodland  odors  that 
brought  back  memories  of  his  boyhood.  But 
he  was  not  thinking  of  exercise  or  odors  this 
morning,  or  of  the  squirrels  with  which  his 
sport  usually  filled  his  bag.  When  he  landed, 
he  walked  immediately  to  the  cabin  occupied 
by  Waverley  Cooke.  There  he  was  greeted  by 
Waverley,  a  tall  and  once  very  fine-looking 
man,  whose  broad  brow  was  now  marked  with 
blotches  which  had  run  over  as  it  were,  from 
his  brandy-pimpled  nose. 

Waverley  Cooke  was  a  Virginian,  whose  dig 
nified  courtesy  of  manner  had  been  inherited 
from  ancestors  of  the  old  stately  school.  In 
his  youth  he  had  been  promising  far  beyond 
the  common  ;  in  his  young  manhood  he  had 
quickly  won  distinction  as  an  advocate  whose 
eloquence  was  singularly  persuasive.  All  doors 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  6$ 

to  success  had  seemed  open  to  him  once;  no\v, 
all  were  forever  closed.  Drink  had  mastered 
him  before  he  reached  his  thirtieth  year,  and 
now  at  fifty,  he  was  old,  broken,  and  hopeless. 
His  patrimony  had  been  wasted,  and  he  had 
come  some  years  before  to  live  upon  the  wild 
waste  lands  he  owned  opposite  Thebes. 

It  had  been  his  hope  to  develop  this  prop 
erty,  to  build  up  a  city  there,  which  should 
share  with  Thebes  the  prosperity  that  had  al 
ways  been  predicted  for  that  town,  and  was 
now  at  last  approaching. 

But  fortune  had  tarried  too  long  for  Wa- 
vcrly  Cooke.  Hope  deferred  had  made  his 
heart  sick,  and  sorrow  and  solitude  and  drink 
had  made  wreck  of  his  once  buoyant  nature. 
He  had  no  longer  any  capacity  to  hope,  and  all 
the  plans  he  had  cherished  lay  dead  now  in  his 
enfeebled  hands. 

Among  these  plans  had  been  one  to  make  the 
river  his  toll-gate  whenever  commerce  should 
begin  to  cross  it.  In  anticipation  of  that  time 
he  had  secured  in  perpetuity  the  ferry  franchise 
from  his  own  miles  of  desolate  river  front  to 
the  shore  where  Thebes  had  then  stood,  a  half- 
drowned  hamlet  waiting  to  become  a  city. 

In  the  conviction  that  some  day  railroads 
from  the  north  would  meet  railroads  from  the 
south  at  this  place,  he  had  seized  upon  this 


66  JUGGERNAUT: 

strategic  point ;  this  ferry  franchise  should 
make  him  rich,  while  the  building  of  a  town 
upon  his  land— it  must  be  there,  because  there 
alone  was  a  landing  possible  for  many  miles — 
should  make  his  wealth  princely. 

But  Waverley  Cooke  had  not  been  able  to 
wait,  and  all  that  remained  of  his  project  was 
the  plying  of  his  skiff — sometimes  rowed  by  his 
own  hands,  and  sometimes  by  a  negro  man, 
once  his  slave,  who  had  remained  his  faithful 
attendant  in  his  decay,— to  carry  infrequent 
passengers  across  the  stream  for  hire. 

It  was  to  purchase  this  ferry  franchise  that 
Edgar  Braine  had  crossed  the  river  that  morn 
ing.  When  the  matter  was  mentioned  to 

o 

Cooke,  a  sad,  dreamy  look  came  into  the  poor 
fellow's  face,  and  for  a  time  he  said  nothing. 
He  poured  and  drank  some  undiluted  spirit — 
courteously  motioning  an  invitation  to  his 
guest,  for  he  could  not  speak — and  then  passed 
into  the  rear  room  of  his  house. 

After  a  few  moments  he  returned,  erect,  and 
with  a  touch  of  his  old  stateliness  in  his  man 
ner,  and  said : — 

"  Pardon  me,  Braine,  but  it  is  not  a  pleasant 
thing  for  a  man  to  contemplate  a  wrecked  life, 
when  that  life  is  his  own.  I  quite  understand 
the  value  this  franchise  will  have  some  day, 
and  until  this  hour  I  have  hoped  myself  to 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  67 

reap  the  advantage  of  its  possession.  It  was 
weak  and  foolish  to  cherish  such  a  delusion, 
but  until  now  I  have  never  frankly  admitted 
to  myself  the  completeness  of  the  ruin  I  have 
wrought.  I  know  now  that  if  there  were  a  dozen 
railroads  seeking  ferry  accommodations  here,  I 
could  not  arrange  to  provide  them.  I  should 
have  to  go  to  Thebes  to  negotiate  for  the 
means,  and  I  should  get  helplessly  drunk  there 
and  part  with  everything  to  the  first  man  that 
found  out  I  had  anything.  I  would  rather  sell 
to  you,  an  honest  man,  and  better  still,  a 
brave  one.  I  have  loved  you  with  a  knightly 
admiration,  boy,  ever  since  that  affair  with 
Summers.  We  Virginians  cherish  our  inher 
ited  respect  for  personal  courage,  Braine.  We 
hold  it  the  chief  virtue  of  manhood.  This 
money-grubbing  age  laughs  at  our  chivalric 
folly  and  mocks  it  ;  but  our  chivalric  folly 
scorns  this  money-grubbing  age,  and  so  we  are 
quits  with  it." 

After  a  little  further  conversation,  the 
wrecked  Virginian  took  another  drink,  and 
said  : 

"Why  not  face  the  facts?  That  is  my 
master" — pointing  to  the  bottle.  "I  drink 
whiskey  before  breakfast ;  I  get  up  in  the 
night  to  drink  it.  I  cannot  go  on  in  that  way 
much  longer,  and  I  should  go  off  at  once  if  I 


68  JUGGERNAUT: 


quitted  it.  It's  a  sorry  thing  to  joke  about, 
isn't  it?  No  matter.  What  I  have  in  mind  is 
this :  I'm  a  wreck.  I  shall  never  do  any 
good  to  myself  or  anybody  else.  My  wife  is 
buried  out  there  in  the  swamp  that  poisoned 
her  with  its  miasms.  My  children  lie  by  her 
side.  There  remains  for  me  only  a  brief 
period  of  wretchedness,  and  then  death  and 
oblivion.  Why  should  I  stay  here  in  this 
pestilential  wilderness  ?  Why  not  sell  out  the 
whole  thing  to  you, — land — there's  seven  thou 
sand  acres  of  it — all  worthless  at  present — 
ferry  franchise,  railroad  charter,  and  all  ?  You 
are  young  and  vigorous.  You  will  make 
something  of  it.  You  will  realize  my  dreams, 
and  I  have  a  sentimental  pleasure  in  thinking 
of  that.  Sentiment  is  out  of  fashion,  I  know, 
but  never  mind.  I'm  out  of  fashion  too." 

"  But  I  haven't  money  enough  for  so  large  a 
transaction,  Mr.  Cooke,"  said  Braine. 

"Money?  It  won't  take  much.  If  you 
were  to  pay  me  a  thousand  dollars  now,  or  five 
thousand,  do  you  know  what  I  would  do?  I 
would  go  over  to  Thebes,  get  drunk  and  die 
probably.  What  would  be  the  use  of  giving 
me  money  in  large  sums?  I  can't  be  helped 
in  that  way.  But  I'll  tell  you  how  you  can 
buy  me  out,  and  at  the  same  time  do  the  best 
thing  there  is  to  be  done  for  me.  The  home 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  69 

of  my  fathers  in  Virginia  is  vacant — aban 
doned  as  worthless  since  the  war.  The  man 
who  owns  it  will  let  me  have  the  use  of  it,  he 
says,  for  a  song,  and  the  offer  has  brought  a 
great  longing  over  me.  /  want  to  go  home 
again." 

Here  the  poor  fellow  broke  down  com 
pletely,  tears  streaming  from  his  eyes  and 
his  utterance  choking.  Braine  turned  and 
walked  apart  in  respectful  sympathy.  After  a 
time  he  returned,  and  Cooke,  having  recovered 
himself,  resumed  : 

"  I  want  to  take  my  wife  and  children  out  of 
the  swamp  and  bury  them  in  the  little  grave 
yard  back  of  the  garden  at  home,  where  the 
sweet-briar  roses  grow.  I  want  to  sit  there  by 
them  every  day  till  I  die,  trying  to  tell  them 
how  I  repent  me  of  my  sin  that  ruined  their 
lives.  Who  knows  ?  Perhaps  the  wife's  spirit 
might  smile  upon  me  then,  as  she  smiled  when 
she  believed  in  me.  Perhaps  the  little  ones 
might  remember  in  their  graves  the  stories  I 
used  to  tell  them,  and  learn  to  love  me  again. 
I  want  to  live  in  the  old  home  till  I  die,  and  I 
want  nothing  else  in  the  world.  Edgar  Braine, 
you  can  make  that  possible.  Do  it,  and  all 
these  accursed  possessions  of  mine,  which  will 
be  golden  possibilities  to  you,  are  yours !" 

Braine  was  too  deeply  moved    to  speak  for 


70  JUGGERNAUT: 


a  time.  Broken  down  drunkard  that  this  man 
was,  he  had  a  certain  nobility  of  character 
yet — it  was  all  that  remained  to  him  of  his 
inheritance  from  his  fathers.  It  was  a  reviving 
glow  of  the  old  inherited  courage  and  love  of 
truth  that  prompted  him  thus  to  face  his  own 
condition,  and  assume  the  responsibility  of  his 
folly  without  an  attempt  to  excuse  or  palliate 
the  wrong  he  had  done. 

"What  do  you  want,  Mr.  Cooke?"  at  last 
Brain e  asked. 

"  I  want  to  go  back  to  the  old  home  to 
die.  I  want  you  to  pay  my  passage  and 
theirs" — motioning  toward  the  graves — "and 
to  pay  me  enough  every  month  after  I  get 
there  to  provide  me  with  food  and  clothes — 
and  this,"  seizing  the  bottle  and  hurling  it  into 
the  corner  angrily.  "  You  are  not  to  send  the 
money  to  me,  mind.  That  would  end  all  at 
once.  You  are  to  send  it  to  some  one  I  will 
name.  A  hundred  dollars  every  month  will  be 
ample,  and  it  won't  be  for  long,  as  your  debt 
is  to  cease  with  my  death.  Will  you  do  this? 
Oh  !  will  you  do  this,  Braine  ?  Will  you  have 
pity  on  me,  and  give  me  one  breath  of  the  old 
air,  one  look  at  the  old  hills,  one  little  rest 
under  the  old  trees,  before  I  die  ?  " 

In  the  great  longing  that  had  taken  pos 
session  of  his  imagination,  the  broken  man 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  71 


was  in  panic  lest  his  proposal  should  be  re 
fused. 

"  The  land  will  be  valuable  some  day, 
Braine,  and  so  will  the  ferry  franchise.  It  is 
absolute  and  exclusive,  and  the  railroad  com 
merce  of  this  region  must  cross  the  river  here. 
Then  there  is  the  railroad  franchise." 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Braine.  "You 
mentioned  it  before,  but  I  do  not  understand." 

"Why,  I  have  a  special  charter,  granted 
years  ago,  for  a  railroad  from  here  to  Colum 
bia — and  on  to  the  State  line,  for  that  matter, 
but  as  there  is  already  a  line  from  Columbia 
south,  it  is  this  twenty-five  miles  that  are 
important.  The  charter  will  be  very  valuable 
whenever  anybody  is  ready  to  build  the  con 
necting  link,  as  they  will  be  some  day,  because 
it  grants  valuable,  exclusive  privileges  which 
can't  be  had  under  the  present  constitution.  I 
drew  the  charter  myself  with  an  eye  to  the 
future,  and  legislatures  in  those  days  were 
ready  to  grant  anything,  in  their  eagerness  to 
encourage  railroad-building.  I  can't  recall  all 
the  legal  points  now — my  head  isn't  clear — 
but  I'll  show  you  the  charter.  You'll  see  for 
yourself  that  whoever  builds  any  railroad  to 
connect  the  lines  centring  at  Thebes  with  the 
Southern  system,  is  absolutely  obliged  to  have 
this  charter." 


72  JUGGERNAUT: 


He  took  the  document  from  his  desk,  and 
Braine  read  it  through  carefully.  Then  he  said  : 

"  Mr.  Cooke,  this  is  a  very  valuable  piece  of 
paper." 

"Then  you  will  grant  what  I  have  asked?  " 
eagerly  interjected  the  other,  almost  in  accents 
of  prayer. 

"  I  will  if  you  insist.  But  as  an  honest  man, 
or  one  who  tries  to  be  tolerably  honest " — he 
remembered  his  suicide — "  I  cannot  accept 
your  offer  without  telling  you  that  you  are  giv 
ing  greatly  more  than  you  imagine.  This 
twenty-five  miles  of  road  must  be  built,  and 
men  of  enormous  means  will  build  it." 

"  Will  they  buy  the  charter  on  my  terms,  and 
now?  A  month  hence  it  may  be  too  late." 

"  They  would  buy  it  now,  and  on  better 
terms  than  I  am  able  to  offer,  if  they  knew  of 
its  existence,"  said  Braine. 

"  I  tell  you  there  are  no  better  terms  possible. 
I  won't  have  money  paid  me  for  it.  I  should 
get  drunk  and  die,  and  never  get  home  with 
them,"  again  pointing  to  the  graves.  "  Now 
listen  to  me,  Edgar  Braine.  I  must  start 
home  in  three  days,  with  them,  or  I  must 
drown  myself.  I  cannot  live  if  this  thing  is 
not  carried  out.  It  is  impossible  to  make 
better  terms  for  me.  All  other  terms  would  be 
worse,  infinitely  worse." 


A   VEILED  RECOKD.  73 

"  Could  I  not  execute  a  mortgage  to  you  for 
a  sum  fairly  representing  the  worth  of  this  ?  " 
holding  up  the  paper. 

"  No  !  I  should  trade  it  off  for  liquor  and 
die  the  sooner.  I  tell  you  I  want  one  thing 
and  no  other.  There  is  nobody  to  come  after 
me  to  inherit  anything  I  might  leave." 

"  Very  well.  Take  to-day  to  think  over  the 
matter.  You're  excited  now.  If  you  adhere 
to  your  proposal  to-morrow,  I  will  accept  it." 

"  No,  no,  no  !  It  must  be  now,  I  tell  you. 
I  will  execute  the  papers  now,  and  begin  to 
get  ready  for  home  !  " 

And  so  it  was  arranged.  Excitement  seemed 
to  clear  the  head  of  the  inebriate,  and  though 
his  hand  trembled,  he  wrote  without  a  pause 
until  every  detail  of  the  transaction  was  cov 
ered  in  legal  form.  Then  he  directed  the 
negro  boy,  Sam,  to  harness  the  horse  to  the 
rickety  buggy,  and  drove  his  visitor  to  the 
county  seat,  ten  miles  away,  where  the  neces 
sary  legal  forms  of  acknowledgment,  record, 
etc.,  were  completed. 

When  Edgar  Braine  walked  into  Hildreth's 
bank  parlor  late  that  afternoon,  he  said  quite 
carelessly  : 

"  I  have  come  into  a  little  property,  and 
have  some  payments  to  make  in  the  settle- 


74  JUGGERNAUT: 

ment.  I  may  have  to  borrow  a  few  hundred 
dollars  to-morrow  on  a  thirty  days'  accept 
ance." 

"  You  can  have  a  few  thousands  if  you  want 
it,"  said  the  banker,  "  any  time  you  like.  Now 
that  you're  one  of  us,  I'll  take  care  that  your 
credit  is  good." 

"  Now  that  I'm  one  of  you,"  replied  Braine, 
"perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to  look  after  that  a 
little  myself.  You  say  I  have  a  good  head  for 
business." 

With  that  he  strolled  out  and  bought  a  copy 
of  the  Enterprise  to  see  if  Mose  Harbell  had 
read  his  proofs  carefully  in  his  absence.  As 
he  passed  a  shop  he  paused  and  said  to  him 
self: 

"  As  there  really  are  two  sides  to  the  river,  I 
may  as  well  take  to  linen  collars  at  once." 
And  he  went  in  and  bought  a  supply. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  75 


IX. 

[From  Helen's  Diary.] 

June  5,  1 8 — -.  Received  a  short  note  from 
Edgar  at  noon.  It  was  a  peculiar,  unnatural 
note  in  some  respects.  It  seemed  a  mechani 
cal  affair,  instead  of  an  impulse  of  the  heart. 
He  did  not  call  this  evening.  I  am  much  wor 
ried  over  it. 

June  6,  1 8 — o  Edgar  is  just  now  gone.  This 
morning  I  received  a  note  from  him  as  usual, 
saying  that  he  had  secured  a  cottage  just  at 
the  edge  of  town  for  us.  He  called  at  eight. 
He  was  in  the  wildest  spirits.  I  have  never 
seen  him  in  this  way  before.  His  happiness 
infected  me.  He  has  had  a  wonderful  stroke 
of  good  fortune,  by  which  he  has  come  into 
the  proprietorship  of  the  Enterprise,  as  well  as 
the  editorship,  and  he  has  just  engaged  in  a  land 
speculation — which  I  am  not  to  mention — that 
is  going  to  be  worth  a  fortune  to  him, — some- 


76  JUGGERNAUT: 

thing  about  a  railroad  grant,  or  something.     I 
don't  understand  it  exactly. 

The  cottage  has  seven  rooms,  and  we  are 
going  to  furnish  them  all.  Ed  laughed,  and 
observed  that  he  had  already  reached  the 
linen  collar  period  of  his  existence.  There 
was  a  certain  grim  ring  in  his  laugh  to-night. 
I  feel  anything  but  grim.  My  entire  person 
feels  like  a  perpetual  smile  of  joy.  This 
stroke  of  fortune  is  glorious.  Ed  said  that  I 
must  say  absolutely  nothing  about  affairs. 
That  he  had  some  people  in  his  hands,  and 
that  we  must  be  very  discreet.  I  can't  bear 
discretion.  It  always  seems  to  suggest  some 
thing  to  be  ashamed  of.  Of  course,  it  doesn't 
in  this  instance,  because  Edgar  is  the  one  who 
enjoins  it.  There  is  something  glorious  in 
this  feeling  of  absolute  faith.  To  knoiv  that 
for  the  rest  of  my  life  I  shall  never  know  the 
responsibility  of  having  to  decide  anything. 
To  know  that  I  can  place  myself  entirely  in 
his  hands,  and  be  confident  of  always  being 
counselled  aright.  I  could  never  have  loved 
him  if  I  could  not  have  felt  this.  It  is  my 
temperament.  I  do  not  feel  this  because  I  love 
him,  but  I  love  him  because  of  this  feeling.  A 
good  and  honorable  man — a  man  above  the 
petty  meanness  of  his  fellows— inspires  one 
almost  with  reverence. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  77 

There  is  a  certain  magnificent  assurance  of 
superiority  in  Edgar  Braine,  so  that  at  times 
the  thought  of  his  marriage  with  a  woman 
like  me  seems  almost  outrageous.  I  feel  so 
inferior,  morally  and  intellectually.  I  fear 
being  a  drag  upon  him  ;  an  obstacle  in  the 
road  of  his  advancement.  I  am  determined  to 
keep  up  with  him  as  far  as  it  lies  in  my  power. 
He  said  to-night  that  he  lived  for  but  two 
things — power,  and  my  love.  I  can  satisfy 
the  latter,  and  will  never  hinder  the  former. 
I  realize  how  dear  this  wish  for  power  is  to 
him  ;  how  he  longs  to  be  able  to  better  the 
condition  of  those  people  whom  he  comes  in 
contact  with.  His  ideas  are  constantly  broad 
ening.  To-night  he  talked  a  little  wildly,  but 
in  a  tone  and  with  a  manner  that  in  some  way 
carried  conviction  with  it,  of  becoming  a 
power  not  only  among  his  immediate  associates 
but  among  the  people  in  general;  a  power  in 
the  nation. 

When  I  think  of  the  noble  aims  of  this  man 
that  I  love,  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  such  a 
situation  would  vastly  benefit  the  country. 
With  such  a  spirit  at  the  helm,  there  could  be 
no  danger  of  wreck.  Heigho  !  What  specu 
lations. 

I  found  myself  smiling  at  the  absurdity  of 
my  thoughts  just  now.  If  I  believed  that 


7  8  JUG  GERNA  UT; 


such  a  tiling  could  be,  I  should  not  be  so 
supremely  happy  as  I  am  now.  I  could  sacri 
fice  my  feelings,  if  it  were  to  the  interests  of 
the  country,  or  Edgar.  I  should  even  enjoy 
sacrificing  them,  I  think.  But  there  will 
never  be  any  question  of  that.  It  seems  to 
me  that  all  has  come  to  the  point  that  I  have 
longed  for.  We  are  to  be  married  ;  never 
separated ;  live  comfortably,  without  the 
necessity  for  anxiety  as  to  the  practical  things 
of  life,  and  love  each  other  unmolested  by 
anyone  or  anything.  This  is  absolute  and 
perfect  happiness.  To  love  and  live  with  no 
ambition  save  to  do  right,  and  feel  that  the 
world  may  be  a  little  better  for  two  loving 
people  having  lived  in  it. 

When  I  teased  Ed  to-night  about  not  taking 
me  to  New  York  for  our  wedding  trip,  he 
actually  looked  unhappy,  and  as  though  he 
thought  1  meant  it.  It  made  me  laugh  to  see 
the  miserable  expression  on  his  face  for  a 
moment,  when  I  have  been  thanking  Heaven 
all  this  time  that  we  could  not  afford  to  go 
further  than  Chicago,  and  so  would  get  back 
here  to  Thebes  and  our  little  home  in  half  the 
time.  Besides,  I  hate  travelling.  It  covers 
me  with  dust  till  I  feel  as  if  I  could  never  be 
clean  again.  The  dust  seems  to  get  even  into 
my  mind  and  soul.  It  isn't  so  with  Edgar. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  79 

There  is  a  halo  of  immaculateness  about  him  : 
cleanliness  is  in  the  very  atmosphere  when  he  is 
near.  He  is  absolutely  an  indescribable  man. 
He  walks  down  the  street,  and  if  one  but  gets 
a  glimpse  of  his  shiny  coat-tails  rounding  the 
corner,  one  is  impressed  with  the  superiority 
of  the  manner  those  coat-tails  have  of  round 
ing  that  corner.  One  knows  that  they  belong 
to  a  man  who  is  worth  knowing.  One  would 
be  impressed  that  the  proprietor  of  those  shiny 
coat-tails  had  accomplished  some  great  thing. 

If  I  don't  stop  right  here,  I  shall  get  to 
elaborating  on  this  subject  until  I  shall  not 
get  to  bed  at  all. 

Good  night,  Edgar.  I  hold  up  my  face  to 
be  kissed. 

June  iQth.  I  have  not  written  in  this  diary 
for  days.  There  has  been  plenty  to  write 
about — plenty  of  emotions,  not  many  inci 
dents. 

Edgar  has  reached  what,  to  me,  seems  the 
pinnacle  of  fame  and  honor — though  he  only 
laughs  when  I  say  so,  and  says,  with  almost  a 
touch  of  contempt  in  his  tone — "  Wait  !  " 

I  am  a  thousand  times  more  elated  over  the 
situation  than  he  is — and  yet  I  hardly  know 
whether  I  am  quite  as  happy  as  I  was  before, 
or  not.  When  I  am  overwhelmed  with  exal 
tation  and  admiration  for  his  wonderful 


SO  JUGGERNAUT: 


achievements,   Edgar   smiles   indulgently,   and 
the  other  night  he  turned  suddenly  and  said  : 

"  Listen,  dear  !  When  I  was  a  young  boy,  I 
used  to  become  frenzied  at  times  with  certain 
indignities  that  other  boys  with  only  half  my 
brains  compelled  me  to  endure,  because  they 
happened  to  be  situated  more  advantageously 
than  I  as  regards  material  things.  While  I 
had  perfect  contempt  for  them,  I  felt  a  wild 
desire  to  convince  them  of  my  superiority,  as  I 
was  convinced  of  it.  I  decided  that  brute 
force  was  the  only  thing  at  my  command  at  first, 
and  one  morning,  went  out  and  whipped  that 
one  of  them  whose  prestige  was  such  in  the 
town  that  victory  over  him  meant  reverence 
for  me  from  the  rest  in  the  set.  It  was  this 
very  respect  which  I  had  whipped  the  fellow  to 
gain,  and  which  these  little  ruffians  accorded  me 
afterward,  that  disgusted  me.  I  found  I  didn't 
value  the  respect  of  a  lot  of  little  loafers  who 
could  appreciate  superiority  of  that  kind  only. 
That  evening,  when  I  saw  my  mother  patching 
those  clothes  that  had  been  torn  in  the  fight,  I 
discovered  that  there  was  no  longer  even  the 
flavor  of  satisfaction  left  me.  I  said  then,  '  I 
will  adopt  a  larger  plan.'  I  did.  I  had  then 
no  thought  that — that  just  this  would  be  the 
outcome,"  and  here  he  looked  out  of  the  win 
dow  for  a  time,  with  the  strange,  determined, 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  8 1 

ominous  look  that  I  have  seen  in  his  face  so 
often  lately. 

"  But  the  situation  is  more  than  my — wild 
est  dreams  could  have  anticipated." 

Here  he  laughed.  His  laugh,  too,  has 
changed  a  little  lately.  He  went  on  in  a  sort 
of  abstracted  tone.  "And  what  that  first 
brutal  success  was  to  me,  now  is  this  that 
enthuses  you  so.  Like  that  first  success  it 
has,  from  the  very  fact  of  its  unsatisfactory 
character,  urged  and  assured  greater  achieve 
ments.  I  think  of  it  as  paltry,  inconsequential 
— from  my  present  point  of  view.  It  is  only  a 
means  by  which  to  accomplish  great  things, 
things  worthy  of  achievement — as  most  people 
regard  worthiness. 

"  The  present  is  nothing  to  me,  absolutely 
nothing,  except  so  far  as  it  affects  the  future." 

Then  he  fell  into  one  of  his  little  silent 
moments,  of  which  he  has  so  many  now. 
There  is  something  about  it  all  that  makes  me 
feel  strange  and  hysterical.  I  am  so  proud 
of  him  that  I  want  to  cry  out  on  the  street 
corners  that  this  man  belongs  to  me — and  yet 
there  is  something  lacking.  He  is  with  me 
even  more  than  usual,  for  it  seems  as  though 
he  has  sudden  plans  and  constantly  occurring 
things  to  tell  me  about. 

He     always     says :     "  Be     discreet  ;     never 


82  JUGGERNAUT: 

speak  to  your  Aunt  or  anyone  but  me  of  any 
of  these  things.  They  are  just  between  us." 
He  says  that  I  am  remarkably  trustworthy, 
and  that  he  could  not  live  if  he  could  not  tell 
me  about  how  things  are  going.  He  never 
seems  to  think  of  himself.  He  will  sit  for  ten 
minutes  looking  at  me  without  speaking,  and 
suddenly  say  : 

"  Wait,  wait  !  Just  a  little  time  and  every 
thing  shall  be  yours.  I  will  bring  the  world  to 
you  and  lay  it  at  your  feet,"  and  when  he  says 
it  I  almost  believe  it  to  be  true  for  a  moment. 

It  is  only  because  his  nerves  are  over 
wrought.  (He  is  nervous  to  the  verge  of  insan 
ity  sometimes.)  It  seems  to  me  that  I  am 
the  only  one  in  the  world  who  could  possibly 
understand  his  temperament.  He  says  I  am. 
The  other  night  we  were  at  a  small  reception 
given  by  Mrs.  Clews.  He  walked  about  the 
house  all  the  time  I  was  putting  on  my  things. 
I  knew  that  he  was  so  nervous  and  excited 
over  something  that  he  could  hardly  control 
himself. 

When  we  reached  the  Clews's  he  suddenly 
became  another  man.  For  an  hour  and  a  half 
he  was  calm  almost  to  coldness.  He  was  mag 
nificent.  Mr.  Hildreth  was  there,  and  once 
while  Edgar  and  I  were  talking  together  we 
saw  him  near  us.  Edrar  had  taken  me  a  little 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  83 

aside,  and  was  saying  nothing,  but  allowing 
himself  to  relax  for  a  moment  from  the  strain 
under  which  I  knew  he  was  keeping  himself. 
Suddenly  he  saw  Mr.  Hildreth,  and  his  tone 
and  attitude  and  manner  changed  completely. 
Where  he  had  seemed  almost  like  a  tired, 
petulant  child  looking  for  comfort  from  me,  he 
suddenly  changed  to  a  stern,  masterful  man 
without  a  trace  of  helplessness  or  nervousness. 

He  said  :  "  This  is  as  good  a  time  as  any," 
and  excused  himself  and  went  over  to  Hildreth, 
and  touched  his  arm.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
Mr.  Hildreth  was  positively  deferential  to  him. 
It  was  no  doubt  my  imagination,  but  they  dis 
appeared  for  a  while,  and  when  they  returned, 
Edgar  and  I  left. 

He  was  his  usual  self — the  self  that  others 
know,  until  we  were  outside.  Then  he  became 
silent — preoccupied.  I  asked  him  what  he 
wanted  with  Mr.  Hildreth,  and  he  laughed  and 
said  : 

"  A  little  matter  of  business — technicalities 
that  you  could  not  understand."  There  is  a 
great  deal  that  I  cannot  understand,  and  these 
things  he  never  tells  me  about,  because  he  says 
that  if  he  annoyed  me  with  these  dry  details,  I 
would  not  listen  to  him  at  all  by  and  bye. 
As  though  that  were  true! 

When  we  reached   home,  he  suddenly  took 


84  JUGGERNAUT: 


me  in  his  arms,  and  said  :  "  How  glorious  you 
are  !  It  would  be  nothing  to  me  if  you  were 
not  to  share  it  with  me." 

He  talks  in  such  a  wild  fashion  at  times.  I 
suppose  he  means  all  this  honor  and  attention 
that  he  receives.  Since  it  has  become  certain 
that  his  exertions  are  to  carry  through  the  rail 
road  affair  to  the  advantage  of  Thebes,  he 
seems  to  have  become  a  sort  of  god  with  the 
Thebans.  I  don't  understand  the  business 
part  of  it  very  well,  but  I  know  that  every  one 
thinks  that  he  has  done  a  great  thing  for  the 
town.  When  I  speak  of  the  gratitude  that  the 
people  of  Thebes  should  feel,  he  shrugs  his 
shoulders  and  changes  the  subject.  Once,  he 
said  in  a  sort  of  a  passion: — "For  heaven's 
sake  never  speak  again  of  anything  I  seem  to 
have  done  for  Thebes." 

This  sensitiveness  and  modesty  are  constant 
with  him  in  everything  that  he  does — though 
the  trait  seems  to  be  intensified  now. 

The  other  day  I  stopped  at  the  office  and 
some  man  was  in  there  talking  to  Edgar,  and 
said  something  about  his  being  a  public  bene 
factor,  and  Edgar  said,  coldly  : 

"  Don't  be  grateful  too  soon,  my  dear  fel 
low,"  and  when  he  saw  me,  his  whole  face 
lighted  up,  and  he  dismissed  the  man. 

The  man  stared  at  me  as  he  went  out,  and 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  85 

suddenly  Edgar  looked  like  a  thunder  cloud, 
and  slipped  between  us  a  sort  of  improvised 
screen  for  me.  He  said  after  the  door  had 
closed  : 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  come  to  the  office  any 
more — things  are  a  little  different  now." 

They  are  different  because  he  has  grown  to 
thinking  of  the  effect  of  everything  on  other 
people  now,  instead  of  just  ourselves,  as  he 
always  has  done.  He  has  always  said  : 

"  As  long  as  one  has  a  clear  conscience,  and 
is  satisfied  with  one's  self,  the  opinions  of  other 
people  are  of  little  consequence." 

I  don't  feel  quite  comfortable  with  the 
change,  but  he  reminded  me  that  circum 
stances  alter  cases ;  that  one  must  adapt  him 
self  to  changed  situations.  I  asked  him  if  it 
was  quite  right,  and  he  looked  at  me  a  long 
time,  and  finally  said  with  the  old,  new  deter 
mination  in  his  face  and  voice  :  "  We  arc  to  do 
it"  without  answering  my  question.  Some 
how  it  taught  me  a  lesson.  I  think  I  shall 
never  again  question  anything  that  he  says. 
His  tone,  his  manner  seemed  to  forbid  it, 
seemed  to  settle  forever  any  doubt  as  to  a 
possibility  of  anything  being  wrong  that  he 
says  or  decides. 

I  was  almost  astonished  at  myself  after 
wards,  when  I  realized  that  I  had  questioned 


86  JUGGERNAUT: 


any  motive  he  might  have  had,  or  any  sugges 
tion  he  might  have  made.  A  woman  like  me, 
questioning  the  propriety  of  anything  that 
such  a  man  as  Edgar  Braine  might  do  f 

Sometimes  I  try  to  make  up  my  mind 
whether  he  looked  more  magnificent  in  his 
shiny  coat  with  fringed  bindings,  or  in  his 
present  immaculate  toilet.  I  can  come  to  no 
conclusion.  The  reverence  and  awe  that  Ed 
gar  Braine  inspired  in  his  shabby  suit  were 
overwhelming.  The  dignity  that  he  lends  to 
his  present  clothes  is — well,  is  simply  glorious. 
He  makes  the  clothes.  In  either  case,  one  is 
impressed  that  clothes  are  but  a  matter  of  con 
venience,  and  really  of  too  little  importance  to 
be  remembered — -except  long  enough  to  put 
them  on  and  take  them  off — by  Edgar  Braine. 
Such  a  man  as  he  would  be  perfect  in  any 
clothes. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  8  7 


X. 


THE  doings  of  Edgar  Braine,  during  the  few 
weeks  following  his  negotiations  with  Waverley 
Cooke,  were  a  riddle  to  those  who  knew  of 
them  ;  but  Thebes  was  so  well  used  to  his  puz 
zling  methods  that  the  little  ripple  of  talk 
raised  at  this  time  did  not  swell  into  a  wave  of 
chatter,  as  it  might  in  another  man's  case. 

In  the  first  place,  he  borrowed  a  very  con 
siderable  sum  of  money  from  Hildreth,  and 
insisted  upon  so  arranging  the  terms  of  the 
loan,  that  he  could  repay  the  money  at  any 
time  after  ninety  days,  but  should  be  free  to 
retain  it  for  a  year  upon  renewals,  if  that 
suited  him  better. 

Hildreth  was  willing  enough  to  lend  him 
the  money,  but  he  speculated  a  little  as  to 
what  Braine  was  going  to  do  with  so  large  a 
sum.  He  did  not  find  out. 

Next,  Braine  jauntily  upset  all  the  plans  for 
the  marriage,  which  he  and  Helen  had  so 


JUGGERNA  UT: 


laboriously  formed.  It  was  on  the  evening  of 
the  special  charter  election  that  he  did  this. 
Up  to  that  day  he  had  worked  ceaselessly  at 
the  task  of  persuading  the  people  of  Thebes 
that  the  best  thing  they  could  do  with  their 
one  valuable  municipal  possession  was  to  give 
it  away  to  the  Central  Railroad  Company. 
He  had  found  time  in  the  interval,  however,  to 
see  Helen  almost  every  day.  He  had  not  con 
tented  himself  with  supporting  the  measure 
in  the  Enterprise,  but  had  organized  support 
for  it  in  quarters  where  support  was  not  to  be 
expected,  and  in  quarters  in  which  it  was  sup 
posed  that  he  of  all  men  had  least  influ 
ence.  The  machinery  of  his  own  political 
party  was  easy  to  handle,  but  Braine  boldly 
undertook  to  control  that  of  the  opposing 
party  as  well. 

A  city  clerk,  to  replace  the  one  who  had 
defaulted  and  run  away,  was  to  be  chosen  by 
the  City  Council,  in  which  Braine's  own  party 
was  dominant.  Braine  seized  upon  this  cir 
cumstance  as  his  lever.  He  boldly  offered  the 
place  to  the  leader  of  the  opposite  party  in 
return  for  that  party's  support  of  the  levee 
transfer  proposal,  which,  being  in  no  respect  a 
political  question,  men  of  either  party  might 
advocate  or  oppose  at  will.  Having  made  the 
bargain  he  set  to  work  to  induce  the  aldermen 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  89 

of  his  own  party  to  carry  it  out.  He  reckoned 
upon  their  venality  as  a  stronger  motive  than 
their  party  zeal,  and  his  reckoning  was  not 
amiss. 

"  Hildreth  is  to  pay  those  rascals  for  voting 
the  transfer,  of  course,"  he  reasoned ;  "  and 
they  can't  vote  it  unless  this  election  is  carried 
to  authorize  it.  Hildreth  isn't  fool  enough 
to  pay  them  till  the  thing  is  done.  Very  well. 
There  is  a  ring  in  the  nose  of  every  scamp  of 
them." 

And  it  was  so.  The  aldermen  were  angrily 
reluctant  to  surrender  a  political  office,  and 
the  one  with  whom  Braine  negotiated  at 
first  flatly  refused.  But  Braine  knew  his 
ground. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  "but  reflect  a  little. 
This  election  is  very  close.  We  need  all  the 
help  we  can  get.  Davidson  has  his  men  per 
fectly  in  hand,  and  now  that  I've  offered  the 
thing  to  him  he  will  vote  them  to  a  man  on 
the  other  side  if  this  isn't  carried  out." 

"  Why  in  thunder  did  you  make  him  such 
an  offer,  then?  Nobody  authorized  it." 

"  It  is  not  worth  while  to  discuss  that.  Call 
it  impertinent  intermeddling  on  my  part,  if 
you  choose,  and  ease  your  mind  in  that  way. 
But  the  offer  has  been  made.  If  you  ratify  it, 
we  shall  carry  the  charter  election.  If  you 


90  JUG  GERNA  UT  : 


refuse, — well,  you  know  what  the  result  is  likely 
to  be  as  well  as  I  do." 

The  alderman  understood  perfectly,  and  was 
not  minded  to  take  risks.  The  bargain  as  to 
the  city  clerkship  was  carried  out.  This  was 
one  of  many  ways  in  which  Braine  organized 
the  victory  he  had  set  out  to  win,  and  during 
those  few  short  weeks,  the  people  of  Thebes 
discovered  a  new  fact  about  Edgar  Braine  ; 
they  learned  that  he  had  what  they  called  "  a 
genius  for  politics." 

When  Edgar  heard  that  said,  he  reflected: 
"Well,  I  seem  to  be  developing  new  qualities 
rapidly.  What  with  a  '  good  head  for  busi 
ness,'  discovered  by  that  expert,  Abner  Hil- 
dreth,  and  a  'genius  for  politics,'  diagnosticated 
by  those  eminent  specialists  the  aldermen  of 
Thebes,  I  ought  to  make  my  way,  especially 
as  I  own  a  railroad  charter  and  a  ferry  fran 
chise.  Poor  old  Waverley  Cooke  !  I  hope  he 
is  breathing  his  native  air  with  a  relish  by  this 
time.  I  shall  be  sorry  when  the  payments  to 
him  cease." 

He  sighed  deeply.  Was  it  over  Waverley 
Cooke,  or  was  he  thinking  of  another  wreck? 

As  soon  as  the  polls  closed  after  an  exciting 
contest — for  the  opposition  had  been  very  de 
termined — Edgar  turned  his  back  upon  the 
bustling  crowds,  and  briskly  walked  away. 


A    J'EfLED  RECORD.  91 

Helen  met  him  at  the  door,  though  she  had 
not  expected  him  that  evening.  Somehow  she 
had  acquired  a  habit  of  always  discovering  his 
approach  and  meeting  him  in  the  vestibule,  a 
convenient  place  for  the  exchange  of  certain 
quasi  masonic — but  we  must  not  intrude  upon 
privacy  with  prying  eyes. 

As  she  was  not  expecting  him,  she  was  not 
dressed  to  receive  him,  a  circumstance  in  which 
he  rejoiced  mightily,  her  careless  costume 
seeming  in  his  eyes  to  set  off  her  beauty  rav- 
ishingly. 

She  wore  a  loose  gown  of  a  thin,  limp  goods, 
Pompeiian  red  in  hue,  with  flowing  sleeves  of 
white,  equally  limp,  and  a  broad,  starchless 
collar  of  white  to  match  the  sleeves.  The 
gown  was  belted  in  at  the  waist  with  a  rope 
girdle  of  dull,  oxidized  silver.  The  costume 
seemed  to  cling  lovingly  to  the  lines  of  her  su 
perb  length,  and  Braine  was  at  the  moment 
certain  that  he  should  never  permit  her  to 
wear  any  other.  "  Man-like,"  was  her  com 
mentary,  when  he  told  her  this  a  few  weeks 
later. 

"You  are  weary,"  she  said,  "and  it  is  very 
warm.  Loll  here  by  the  windows.  No,  not 
in  that  chair,  it  is  rickety,  and  you  are  so  big 
and  strong  I  always  expect  weak  things  to 
break  with  you.  My  will  did,  you  know, 


92  JUGGERNA  UT: 


when  you  made  up  your  mind  to  marry  me. 
No,  no,  you  mustn't,  now !  people  are  pass- 
ing." 

•What  this  last  injunction  and  remark  had  to 
do  with  the  subject  of  conversation,  I  cannot 
make  out,  but  that  is  what  Helen  said,  hur 
riedly,  as  she  drew  back  a  little. 

"  Now  you  shall  not  talk  to  me,"  she  said,  as 
she  sank  in  graceful  folds  upon  the  floor,  with 
an  ease  which  made  one  doubt  the  existence  of 
bones  in  her  tall  person.  "  You  are  tired,  and 
I'll  do  the  talking.  What  shall  the  subject 
be?" 

"  Tell  me  of  yourself.  What  have  you  been 
doing  and  thinking  ?  " 

"  Nibbling  pickles,  sewing,  trying  to  read 
Browning  because  you  told  me  to,  and  carrying 
pins  in  my  mouth." 

"  I  thought  you  promised  me  not  to  put  pins 
in  your  mouth.  I  gave  you  a  cushion,  to  bind 
the  bargain." 

"  That's  why  I  told  you  about  it.  You  see 
I'm  honest  above  all  things.  I  get  busy  and 
forget,  but  I'm  really  trying,  Edgar." 

"  What  have  you  been  sewing  on  ?  " 

"  I  must  tell  you.  (I'm  too  honest.)  Clothes." 

"  What  sort  ?  " 

"White.     Linen  and  cotton." 

"But  what—" 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  93 

"  Hush  !  You're  not  to  talk.  Where  did 
Browning  get  the  story  of  Herve  Kiel?  Is  it 
historical  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you  without  talking." 

"  Oh,  you  can  talk  just  a  little,  you  know — 
enough  to  answer  my  questions.  But  I  don't 
care  anything  about  Herve  Kiel.  I  asked  be 
cause  I  could  not  think  of  anything  else  at  the 
moment.  Tell  me  instead,  where  our  wedding 
cards  should  be  made — Chicago  or  St.  Louis?  " 

Taking  that  evening's  Enterprise  from  the 
table  Edgar  read  aloud  : 

"  There  is  no  longer  any  occasion  for  citizens  of 
Thebes  to  incur  the  delays  and  uncertainties  incident  to 
having  printing  of  any  kind  done  in  Chicago  or  St.  Louis. 
The  job  office  of  the  Daily  Iinterprisc  is  now  perfectly 
equipped  for  all  work  of  the  kind,  from  the  plainest  of 
posters  to  the  daintiest  of  wedding  invitations." 

"  But  I  won't  have  printing  done  at  that  es 
tablishment,  Mr.  Braine." 

"Why  not,  Miss  Thayer  ?  " 

"  I  don't  approve  of  its  editor." 

"What  has  the  poor  fellow  done  to  incur 
your  displeasure  ?  " 

"  Many  things.  He  persists  in  asking  me 
about  the  clothes  I  am  making ;  he  insists 
upon  changing  my  pretty  name,  and  he  is  too 
stingy  of  his  time  to  take  me  further  than  Chi- 


94  JUGGERNAUT: 


cago  for  a  wedding  trip  when  I  am  crazy  to  be 
stunned  and  bewildered  by  the  glories  of  New 
York." 

"  Helen  dear,"  broke  in  Braine,  with  a  sudden 
earnestness  of  protest  in  his  tone,  "  you  know, 
do  you  not — " 

"  Certainly  I  know,  and  I  perfectly  approve 
that  and  everything  else  you  do,  Ed.  Forgive 
me.  I  was  only  teasing." 

At  this  point  there  was  a  brief  wait  in  the 
dialogue.  Then  Helen,  sitting  down  on  the 
floor  again,  resumed  in  an  earnest  tone,  with 
her  large  eyes  looking  fixedly  at  her  lover : 

"  You  must  never  misunderstand  me,  Ed. 
You  know  I  am  devoted  to  your  interests  only. 
I  would  not  let  you  spend  an  hour  that  you 
cannot  spare  from  your  work,  in  gratifying  me. 
I  was  only  jesting,  dear.  You  understand  me, 
don't  you  ?  " 

If  the  words  did  not  make  the  matter  en 
tirely  clear  to  Braine's  intelligence  they  were 
helped  a  good  deal  by  the  "  eloquent  language 
of  signs,"  and  the  whole  matter  was  rapidly 
becoming  perfectly  lucid,  when  a  knock  at  the 
door  startled  the  pair,  and  caused  Helen  to 
withdraw  suddenly  to  a  particularly  prim  and 
painful  Queen  Elizabeth  chair  on  the  other  side 
of  the  room.  By  the  time  she  was  uncomfort 
ably  seated,  the  knock  was  repeated,  and  it 


A    WILED  XECORD.  95 

dawned  upon  her  mind  that  some  one  should 
open  the  door.  She  did  this  herself,  as  on  the 
whole,  best. 

"  It's  Mikey,  with  a.  note  for  me,"  said 
Braine  ;  "  I  told  Mose  Harbell  to  send  him." 

Helen  brought  in  the  note,  and  Braine 
quietly  opened  and  read  it. 

"  Please  tell  Mikey  to  wait  for  an  answer," 
he  said.  "  May  I  have  some  paper?  " 

Helen  supplied  him,  and  he  wrote.  When 
the  messenger  was  gone,  he  turned  and  said  : 

"  Come  here,  Helen  dear.  Kneel  down  here 
by  my  chair.  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

His  manner  was  a  trifle  puzzling.  It  indi 
cated  a  good  deal  of  earnestness  and  some  con 
cern  to  enforce  whatever  it  was  he  meant  to 
say  ;  but  there  was  an  inflection  of  exultation 
in  his  voice  : 

"  I'm  going  to  upset  all  our  arrangements, 
Helen.  You  needn't  have  any  wedding  cards 
printed  at  all." 

"  Oh  Edgar  !  "  she  cried  in  distress.  "  What 
has  happened  ?  Are  you  ruined  in  your  busi 
ness,  dear?  Tell  me  what  it  is  ?  " 

"No,  I'm  not  ruined — not  in  my  business  at 
least,"  he  added,  with  a  meaning  to  which 
Helen  had  no  clew.  ,  "  On  the  contrary,  my 
prospects  were  never  so  good  before.  But 
you  don't  need  any  wedding  invitations,  dear, 


96  JUGGERNAUT: 


because  we  must  be  married  to-night.  We 
leave  by  the  midnight  train  for  a  wedding 
journey  to  New  York." 

"  But,  Edgar,  how  absurd  !  " 

"Yes,  I  know  it's  absurd.  Many  things  I 
do  are  so.  But  it  must  be,  all  the  same.  I 
have  just  had  the  returns  from  this  election. 
It  has  gone  as  I  wished,  and  that  involves  a 
good  many  things — among  them  an  immediate 
journey  to  New  York,  and  perhaps  a  stay  of 
several  weeks  there.  I  have  only  been  wait 
ing  till  Mikey  brought  me  certain  news  of  the 
result  before  telling  you  about  this." 

"You  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  have  sat 
there  chatting  with  me  all  this  time,  with  that 
in  your  mind,  and  not  telling  me  a  word  about 
it?" 

"  I  couldn't,  you  know.  You  told  me  not 
to  talk." 

'•  You  don't  deserve  that  I  should  marry  you 
at  all." 

"  I  know  it.  I've  told  you  so  all  along. 
But  the  same  thing  is  true  of  every  other  man 
in  the  world,  and  so  you  will  have  to  put  up 
with  it." 

"  But  you're  not  serious  about  this,  Ed 
gar?" 

"  Perfectly." 

"  It's  preposterous  !  " 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  97 

"Of  course  it  is,  but  I  can't  help  it." 

"  It's  out  of  the  question/' 

"  Of  course  it  is.  Things  that  are  decided 
are  no  longer  in  the  question." 

"  But  seriously,  Edgar,  I'm  not  ready.  I 
can't  be  married  so  suddenly.  I  haven't  any 
clothes"  with  that  tremendous  emphasis  on  the 
word  clothes  which  the  feminine  mind  instinc 
tively  places  on  the  idea  it  represents,  where 
marriage  is  in  question. 

"  Seriously,  Helen,  I  know  this  is  a  great 
annoyance  to  you,  and  I  deeply  regret  annoy 
ing  you  with  anything.  But  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  for  me  to  go  to  New  York  at  once, 
and  to  remain  there  for  I  don't  know  how 
long.  It  means  more  to  me  than  you  can  im 
agine.  It  means  success  and  power.  Perhaps 
it  may  mean  wealth,  also.  We  were  to  have 
been  married  in  July.  I  may  not  be  able  to 
leave  New  York  then  without  risk  of  loss  and 
ruin.  So  we  must  be  married  to-night,  and 
you  shall  have  your  vision  of  New  York  after 
all.  It  is  now  nine  o'clock.  I  will  be  back 
here  at  eleven,  with  a  license  and  a  clergyman. 
I  have  written  to  Mose  Harbell  to  send  you  a 
dozen  newsboys  for  messengers.  They'll  be 
here  soon.  He  will  send  '  genial  '  ones,  of 
course,  and  they  will  carry  notes  summoning 
all  your  friends  to  the  wedding.  Lily  Holliday 


98  JUGGERNAUT: 


will  help  you  with  the  notes.  You  might 
send  for  Daisy  Berkeley  too,  or  I'll  call  by 
there  on  my  way  down  town,  and  tell  her 
you've  a  romantic  secret  to  confide  to  her. 
That  will  send  her  to  you  in  five  minutes. 
It  would  if  it  were  midnight  and  she  in 
bed." 

With  that  he  hurried  away,  leaving  Helen 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  in  a  dazed 
condition,  till  Daisy  Berkeley,  who  lived  but  a 
little  distance  away,  came  hurriedly  in  to  ask  : 
"What  is  it?"  in  many  and  varied  forms  of 
words. 

"  I  could  not  think  of  yielding  to  so  pre 
posterous  a  plan,"  said  Helen,  after  she  had 
briefly  explained  the  situation,  "  but  what  am 
I  to  do  ?  Edgar  is  gone,  and  I  can't  argue  it 
with  him.  And  the  clergyman  will  be  here  at 
eleven,  and  there  come  the  newsboys  now,  and 
I  haven't  a  stitch  of  clothes  !  Oh,  what  shall  I 
do?" 

"  Do  ?  "  cried  Daisy.  "  Why  carry  the  thing 
through,  of  course.  It's  the  most  deliciously 
romantic  thing  I  ever  heard  of  in  my  life. 
Oh,  how  I  do  envy  you  !  " 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do  for  clothes,  Daisy? 
And  besides,  it's  so  undignified  !  " 

"A  fig  for  Dignity  !  Vive  la  Romance  !  I'll 
lend  you  all  my  clothes.  I  always  have  lots  of 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  99 

them,  and  mamma  is  sure  to  know  where  they 
are." 

"  Daisy  Berkeley !  You  forget  yourself. 
You  are  under  five  feet  high,  and  I  am  five 
feet  eight  inches." 

"Well,  never  mind  about  clothes.  You 
have  plenty  of  them.  It's  all  nonsense,  the 
way  we  women  talk  about  nothing  to  wear. 
Somebody  wrote  a  book  or  something  to 
prove  it  once.  Who  would  spoil  a  delicious 
romance — oh,  it  is  so  delicious — for  nonsense 
like  that !  Why,  it'll  make  you  the  talk  of  the 
town." 

"That's  just  it.  I  have  no  desire  to  be  the 
talk  of  the  town.  But  there  is  no  help  for  it 
now." 

So  the  two,  with  Lily  Holliday,  summoned 
from  next  door,  set  to  work  upon  the  notes, 
while  the  trunk  packing  was  done  by  Helen's 
aunt,  who  was  weeping  all  the  time,  till  Mary 
Malony,  the  maid,  who  was  helping  her, 
exclaimed : 

"  Sure  mum,  it's  not  packin'  a  thrunk,  but  a 
dampenin'  down  of  clothes  ye  are,  and  they's 
no  ironin'  convayniences  on  the  cars  at  all." 


100  JUGGERNAUT: 


XI. 


FOR  a  man  on  his  wedding  journey  Braine 
seemed  to  have  an  extraordinary  amount  of 
business  to  attend  to  from  the  first  hour  of  his 
arrival  in  New  York.  Sometimes  it  occupied 
his  mornings,  and  sometimes  his  down  town 
engagements  stretched  far  into  the  afternoon, 
though  he  avoided  that  as  much  as  possible, 
and  managed  almost  always  to  have  his  even 
ings  free. 

In  his  hours  of  freedom  he  threw  off  care  so 
completely  that  if  Helen  had  been  capable  of 
doubting  anything  he  said,  she  would  not  have 
believed  in  his  business  engagements  at  all. 

He  took  her  to  the  theatres,  where  light 
summer  plays  of  no  possible  interest  were  run 
ning,  and  joined  in  the  poor  sport  with  the 
relish  of  a  boy,  and  apparently  without  once 
thinking  of  the  affairs  with  which  he  was 
toiling  down  town  every  day.  He  sought  out 
all  the  places  where  summer  music  was  to  be 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  IOI 

heard.  Me  went  to  the  sea  side,  and  would  sit 
on  the  sands  for  hours  with  Helen,  idly  listen 
ing  to  the  lazy  swash  of  the  surf  as  it  surged 
in  from  the  indolent  summer  sea.  He 
watched  even  the  merry-go-rounds  with  a 
contagious  interest  in  the  joy  the  children 
seemed  to  get  out  of  them. 

And  yet  all  this  time  Braine  was  playing  a 
great  game,  with  success  or  failure  for  the 
stakes;  a  game  mainly  of  skill,  at  which  he 
was  a  novice,  while  his  adversaries  were  veter 
ans.  If  he  succeeded,  nothing  was  beyond 
his  reach.  If  he  failed — but  he  did  not  con 
template  failure.  It  had  never  been  his 
habit. 

At  first,  Helen  enjoyed  the  privacy  of  a 
stranger  in  the  great  town,  going  and  coming 
at  will,  knowing  nobody  and  expecting  atten 
tion  from  nobody.  But  this  was  of  brief  dura 
tion,  and  signs  that  it  was  destined  speedily  to 
end  appeared  when  men  of  wealth  and  social 
prominence  began  to  show  themselves  at  the 
hotel  with  Braine,  and  to  seek  presentation  to 
herself  in  her  private  parlor. 

It  was  during  this  blissful  period  of  obscur 
ity  that  Helen  wrote  in  the  diary  : 

We  have  been  in  the  city  now  three  days. 
I  am  happy,  but  tired  out  with  a  rush  of  new 


IO2  JUGGERNAUT: 


experiences.  I  am  still  in  the  daze  occasioned 
by  the  suddenness  with  which  events  have 
occurred.  Married,  and  seeing  New  York,  all 
in  six  days,  is  too  much  for  any  woman,  even 
a  Western  woman.  And  my  wardrobe  !  Until 
this  evening  I  have  had  no  time  to  think  of  it. 
But  at  this  moment  it  comes  to  me  with  terri 
ble  and  tragic  force  that  I  have  just  three  pre 
sentable  dresses  to  my  name,  and  these  are 
not  so  presentable  as  they  seemed  before  we 
went  down  to  dinner  that  first  evening. 

By  the  way,  dinner  means  that  of  which  I 
have  never  dreamed  before,- — and  means  it  at 
six  o'clock.  In  Thebes,  dinner  meant  a  sort 
of  juggling  at  noon  ;  and  supper,  a  scrabble  at 
six.  Dinner  here  means  science,  art,  and  awe 
some  ability  in  some  one. 

For  just  one  moment  I  was  ready  to  sink 
through  the  floor  when  I  entered  the  dining- 
room — no,  we  dined  in  the  cafe.  (These  little 
distinctions  must  not  escape  me,  nor  be  neg 
lected.)  But  in  an  instant  I  glanced  at  Edgar, 
who  seemed  so  unconcerned  with  surrounding 
things,  and  so  preoccupied  with  some  weighty 
matter,  that  everything  but  him  seemed  to 
sink  into  insignificance,  and  by  the  time  I  was 
seated  at  the  table,  and  remembered  the 
strangeness  and  magnificence  of  it  all,  I  had 
forgotten  to  be  overpowered. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  103 

I  noticed  that  Edgar  was  looking  at  me  with 
a  smile  and  very  earnestly  once,  and  when  I 
said,  "  What  is  it  ?  "  he  replied  : 

"  Any  other  woman  who  had  never  eaten 
terrapin  would  have  said  that  she  didn't  like 
it.  This  dinner  has  convinced  me  that  you 
are  a  wonderful  woman." 

I  half  understood  him,  and  my  happiness  at 
having  unconsciously  pleased  him  made  me 
blush.  The  blush  itself  seemed  to  delight 
him,  and  he  said  :  "  Good  heavens  !  a  woman 
who  has  had  time  to  enjoy  terrapin,  and  is 
still  able  to  blush  so  beautifully  ! 

I  left  the  dining-room  in  a  state  of  mind 
almost  bordering  on  exaltation. 

People  stare  very  rudely  here.  Every  one 
looked  at  us.  Edgar  did  not  seem  to  observe 
it,  but  somehow  I  could  not  help  being  consci 
ous  of  it.  I  first  thought  that  they  looked  at 
Edgar,  but  I  found  they  were  staring  at  me 
too.  That  was  because  I  was  with  him.  I  am 
more  than  ever  determined  to  keep  up  with 
him  as  well  as  I  can,  that  I  may  be  no  drag 
upon  his  advancement — or  rather  on  his  efforts 
to  advance  others. 

I  experience  a  little  suspicion  of  regret  now 
and  then.  Edgar  and  I  cannot  possibly  seem 
so  near  to  each  other  while  we  are  amid  such 
startling  surroundings,  and  one  has  to  bear  in 


1 04  JUGGERNA  UT: 


mind,  to  an  extent,  that  she  must  not  appear 
too  much  surprised. 

He  has  hardly  been  in  the  room  half  an  hour 
at  a  time  since  our  arrival.  He  no  sooner  comes 
in  and  gets  ready  to  talk  to  me,  than  he  receives 
a  card  from  some  one  and  goes  to  the  parlor — 
he  will  have  no  one  come  to  our  private  parlor. 
He  says  "  Not  yet,"  and  laughs. 

He  seems  almost  fierce  sometimes,  at  the 
thought  of  other  people  even  looking  at  me. 
He  said,  when  he  saw  a  man  looking  after  me 
in  the  hall:  "It  makes  me  feel  murderous! 
These  men  are  not  fit  to  breathe  the  same 
atmosphere  with  you.  Neither  am  I,  for  that 
matter,  any  more,  but  I  love  you,  that  makes  it 
different;  and  what  I  do  is  because  I  love  you." 

It  delights  me  cruelly  to  hear  him  depreci 
ate  himself — not  because  of  that  depreciation, 
but  because  it  illustrates  his  extraordinary  love 
for  me. 

I  wish  we  were  in  the  little  cottage  at 
Thebes.  The  sweet-williams  are  ravishingly 
sweet  now  ;  and  I  would  like  to  have  just 
my  dog  near  when  I  love  Edgar  so.  He  would 
be  so  sympathetic  !  There  is  such  an  aggres 
sive  feeling  of  selfishness  in  the  air  here. 
Something  not  quite  sympathetic,  or  clean,  or 
good.  It  is  because  it  is  all  new  and  strange  to 
me,  of  course,  but  it  certainly  seems  so.  I  men- 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  1 05 

tioned  this  thoughtlessly  a  while  ago,  and 
Edgar  threw  his  arms  around  me  and  stopped 
the  words  with  kisses.  I  know  that  he  did  it 
so  that  I  would  say  no  more,  for  his  face 
looked  peculiarly  pained.  His  lip  quivered 
for  a  moment,  and  that  almost  frightened  me. 
Such  a  thing  in  Edgar  means  more  than  even 
I  can  divine.  In  a  moment  he  was  gravely  gay 
again.  Even  in  his  merriest  moments  there  is 
a  sweet  dignity  about  him  that  fascinates  and 
commands  me.  I  seem  to  demand,  but  he 
seems  to  command.  There  is  no  other  man 
living  whom  I  could  have  loved. 

New  York,  July  2.  Until  now  I  have  always 
thought  that  the  day  on  which  I  met  Edgar 
was  the  most  marvellous  one  of  my  life.  I 
now  think  it  is  not  so.  This  has  been  the 
most  eventful  one  surely. 

Last  night  I  said  to  Ed  that  this  morning  I 
must  go  out  and  get  something  to  wear.  He 
said,  "  Very  well.  While  I  am  down  town 
you  can  do  your  shopping."  That  was  all 
that  was  said.  We  breakfasted  at  nine,  and 
at  ten  Ed  said  we  had  better  go,  as  he  must 
be  down  town  by  10:30.  I  had  no  idea  where 
to  go  or  just  what  to  do.  There  was  a  certain 
embarrassment  about  the  situation,  but  I  con 
cealed  the  fact,  and  trusted  to  Ed's  wonderful 
management  and  delicacy. 


1 06  JUGGERNA  UT: 


He  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  Nothing 
was  said  as  to  where  I  should  go,  or  concern 
ing  means  with  ^ivJiicJi  to  go,  until  we  reached 
the  hotel  entrance.  He  put  me  into  a  coupe, 
and  said  :  "The  man  will  take  you  to  an  es 
tablishment  where  they  can  tell  you  what  you 
want  without  your  having  to  bother  about  it," 
and  thrust  a  roll  of  bills  into  my  hand,  threw 
me  a  kiss,  nodded,  smiled,  and  closed  the  door. 

The  coupe  started  before  I  could  recover 
from  astonishment.  For  a  minute  I  sat  look 
ing  at  the  bills  in  my  hand.  They  made  a 
terrible  roll.  When  I  found  what  he  had 
given  me  I  could  only  gasp  and  drop  them  on 
the  floor.  The  amount  frightened  me.  I  was 
sure  that  he  had  made  a  mistake,  and  I  put 
the  bills  in  a  separate  compartment  of  my 
purse,  all  but  fifty  dollars,  to  give  them  back 
when  I  returned. 

We  stopped  at  a  ladies'  tailoring  establish 
ment  of  some  kind.  I  was  really  too  much 
overcome  and  disturbed  to  know  what  I  was 
about.  The  coachman  opened  the  coupe  door, 
and  said  : 

"Blossom's,  madame,"  and  my  heart  quite 
stopped  beating  for  a  moment.  But  I  sud 
denly  felt  the  necessity  of  not  displaying  my 
ignorance,  for  Edgar's  sake,  and  pretended  to 
be  preoccupied,  and  so  gained  time  to  look 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  1 07 

about  me  covertly,  and  prepare  an  excuse  for 
my  faux  pas  on  my  part. 

Well,  in  about  one  minute  after  I  entered 
the  parlor,  I  felt  that  I  had  been  born  passing 
judgment  on  styles  and  fabrics.  I  seemed  to 
have  nothing  to  do.  I  said  rather  abstractedly 
and  indifferently  "  Something  in  a  street  dress. 
I  leave  it  to  you,"  and  made  a  little  inconse 
quent  gesture.  In  a  minute  I  found  everything 
taken  out  of  my  hands,  and  a  man  and  a  woman 
declaring  that  they  knew  at  once  what  madame 
wished  ;  they  would  satisfy  me,  etc.,  etc.,  all 
in  a  suddenly  changed  manner  that  amazed 
me.  They  were  treating  me  like  some  extra 
ordinary  personage.  It  was  my  little  gesture 
of  ennui  that  accomplished  this.  (By  the  way, 
I  did  not  say  "dress"  a  second  time,  but 
"  gown,"  which  is  how  considered  the  proper 
term.) 

I  felt  almost  like  an  impostor  at  first,  but  I 
had  a  desire  that  Edgar  might  be  there  to 
witness  the  little  performance.  I  felt  that  I 
had,  at  least,  not  disgraced  him. 

Then  I  said:  "Something  in  a  house 
gown,"  when  they  had  settled  the  street  gown. 
The  house  gown  was  decided,  and  before  I 
knew  it  they  had  the  most  wonderful  designs 
for  dinner  and  reception  gowns  before  me  that 
I  ever  dreamed  of. 


IOS  JUGGERNAUT: 

I  seemed  to  be  in  a  maze,  and  acquiesced 
mechanically  in  what  they  proposed.  Finally, 
things  seemed  to  come  to  an  end,  and  I  asked 
for  my  bill.  They  were  to  supply  the  mate 
rials,  calculate  the  cost,  etc.  They  seemed  a 
little  surprised,  and  said  I  could  attend  to  that 
at  my  convenience — when  I  came  to-morrow. 
I  suddenly  felt  panic-stricken  and  determined 
to  find  out  the  extent  of  my  madness.  I  in 
sisted  in  a  peremptory  and  dignified  way — 
saying  I  preferred  to  settle  such  little  matters 
on  the  spot.  They  kept  me  waiting  half  an 
hour,  and  then — handed  me  the  bill. 

It  makes  me  faint  now  to  think  of  that 
moment.  I  sat  staring  at  the  paper.  It 
amounted  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
more  than  was  in  that  roll  of  bills  !  I  felt  my 
hair  make  an  attempt  to  stand  erect.  I  me 
chanically  opened  my  purse,  and  handed  them 
the  money  that  was  to  have  been  returned  to 
Edgar,  and  said  in  a  voice  that  I  did  not 
recognize  as  my  own  :  "  That  is  all  I  happen 
to  have  with  me — I  will  attend  to  the  other 
trifle  to-morrow." 

Trifle  ! !  The  remainder  was  more  than  I 
had  ever  spent  for  clothes  before  in  a  year.  It 
never  occurred  to  me  that  I  could  counter 
mand  the  order.  I  felt  that  I  was  helpless  and 
in  the  hands  of  the  Philistines.  I  gave  them 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  1 09 

my  address,  fully  determined  to  get  back  to 
the  hotel  and  smuggle  Edgar  off  before  the 
next  morning,  before  the  "  trifle "  could  be 
asked  for. 

I  kept  saying  all  the  way  : — "  We  are  just 
married.  We  are  just  married.  Men  always 
forgive  things  when  they  are  just  married!" 
I  said  it  over  and  over. 

When  we  stopped  at  the  hotel  entrance 
some  one  opened  the  door  at  once.  It  was 
Edgar.  He  was  smiling  and  helping  me  out, 
and  saying  that  he  had  been  smoking  and 
waiting  for  me.  I  prayed  that  I  might  sink 
right  down  through  the  coal-hole  in  the  side 
walk. 

I  did  not  speak,  and  Edgar  said,  anxiously: 
—  "Your  shopping  has  been  too  much  for  you, 
dear.  You  look  pale  and  tired  out!"  I 
thought  of  that  trifling  balance,  and  nearly 
staggered.  I  said,  "  No,  oh  no!  "  and  got  into 
our  rooms  in  some  way. 

To  think  that  I,  Helen  Braine,  who  never 
possessed  more  than  three  gowns  at  once,  the 
wife  of  a  man  who  had  had  to  wear  coats  with 
frayed  edges,  should  have  spent  a  small  for 
tune  in  two  hours,  and  that  there  was  still  a 
"balance"!  And  it  had  yet  to  be  told  of! 
That  was  the  worst.  I  expected  to  hear  him 
say  every  minute  : 


I IO  JUGGERNA  UT: 

"  By  the  way,  my  dear,  I  made  a  little  mis 
take  this  morning,  and  gave  you  the  wrong 
amount  of  money.  I  knew  you  would  under 
stand  it." 

Well,  when  we  were  inside  our  rooms,  with 
the  door  shut,  I  leaned  up  against  the  wall. 
Edgar  saw  there  was  something  terrible  the 
matter,  and  he  looked  quite  pale  and  said  : 
"What  is  it?" 

I  was  waiting  for  him  to  say :  "  You 
haven't  spent  all  the  money!  "  and  kept  think 
ing  to  myself  very  hard — "  Men  always  forgive 
things  when  they  are  just  married." 

Finally,  I  said,  "  Edgar,  how  much  money 
have  you?"  And  then  he  stared  at  me.  He 
laughed,  and  said  :  "  How  mercenary  shop 
ping  expeditions  do  make  women  !  " 

I  thought  I  should  drop  down  in  one  minute 
more,  and  hoped  that  I  should  die.  I  asked  if 
he  had  enough  to  settle  our  bill  and  get  out  of 
town.  He  said  afterward  that  he  thought  I 
had  suddenly  developed  a  propensity  for  shop 
lifting,  and  had  been  discovered,  and  that  he 
would  have  to  smuggle  me  out  of  the  city. 

He  looked  very  serious  though  when  I 
asked  the  question,  and  said  :  "  Certainly, 
dear.  We  will  not  stay  a  moment  longer  than 
you  wish  to."  He  asked  what  had  happened. 
I  managed  to  gasp  that  I  had  spent  all  the 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  1 1 1 

money.  He  looked  puzzled  and  said  :  "  Well, 
go  on.  What  is  the  matter?"  and  I  repeated 
that  I  had  spent  all  the  money.  It  seemed 
heartless  for  him  to  torture  me  by  making  me 
repeat  it. 

He  looked  still  more  puzzled,  and  said: 
"  Yes,  well,  what  about  it  ?  "  I  said  :  "  And 
there's  a — a  balance — a  trifle." 

He  answered  :  "  Of  course — well  ?  "  And 
then — I  don't  know  what  happened  then.  I 
was  sobbing,  and  Edgar  kept  frantically  pour 
ing  cologne  over  me,  and  kissing  me  and  say 
ing:  "Don't  cry,  for  heaven's  sake,  Helen," 
and  by  degrees  he  managed  to  understand  the 
situation,  and  before  I  knew  it  he  was  lying 
back  in  a  chair  fairly  shouting  with  laughter, 
and  my  hair  was  dripping  wet,  and  I  felt  as 
though  I  had  passed  through  the  resurrection, 
and  found  myself  on  the  right  side. 

I  finally  found  that  there  was  no  mistake, 
except  that  I  had  not  spent  the  money  for  the 
right  things ;  that  I  was  supposed  to  have 
purchased  all  the  little  things  like  gloves  and 
shoes  and  hats  and  a  hundred  other  trifles 
with  that,  and  that  this  frightful  bill  was  to 
have  been  sent  in  to  Edgar  or  me,  beside,  and 
settled  then. 

I  may  live  to  be  a  thousand,  but  that  ter 
rible  hour  will  always  be  fresh  in  my  memory. 


1 12  JUGGERNAUT: 


I  was  not  unhappy.  I  experienced  a  despair 
that  was  truly  tragic.  And  the  reaction  that 
followed  ! 

Edgar  Braine  was  never  so  dear  and  great 
and  glorious  before  to  me.  He  held  me  in 
his  arms  for  two  hours  and  let  me  cry.  He 
tried  to  be  sympathetic  and  serious,  but  every 
few  moments  he  would  burst  out  in  an  uncon 
trollable  fit  of  laughter.  He,  too,  says  that  he 
will  never  forget  that  hour. 

I  am  still  dazed  over  the  situation.  But  the 
relief  !  Oh,  the  relief ! 

He  says  that  I  am  to  carry  no  money  here 
after,  for  I  don't  like  it.  It  seems — I  don't 
know  what.  I  don't  like  to  handle  it,  and  he 
says  that  I  am  to  get  anything  and  everything 
I  want,  and  have  the  bills  sent  to  him,  and 
he  will  attend  to  them. 

I  shall  know  how  to  deport  myself  to-mor 
row,  and  know  about  what  I  want,  for  I  find 
that  I  unconsciously  noticed  everything  this 
morning,  and  am  pretty  well  informed. 

If  I  had  not  had  that  thought,  that  newly 
married  men  cannot  be  very  severe — at  any 
rate  I  don't  tliink  they  can,  judging  by  Edgar 
— while  I  was  coming  home,  to  sustain  me,  I 
do  not  think  I  could  have  endured  that  terri 
ble  hour." 


A   VEILEJJ  RECORD.  1 1 3 


XII. 

IT  was  about  the  time  of  Helen's  shopping 
expedition  that  Braine  began  to  present  cer 
tain  select  gentlemen  of  his  acquaintance  to 
Helen  in  their  private  parlor.  Their  visits 
were  promptly  followed  by  attentions  that  sur 
prised  her  not  a  little.  Their  wives,  sisters, 
and  daughters  journeyed  from  Newport,  Rich 
field  and  Long  Branch  to  call  upon  her,  and, 
as  Gladys  Van  Duyn  said,  when  she  called 
with  her  fiance — young  Grayson — "  to  snatch 
her  as  a  brand  from  the  burning  of  a  scorching 
July."  By  this,  Gladys  merely  meant  that 
she  had  come  for  the  purpose  of  taking 
possession  of  Helen,  and  carrying  her  bodily 
out  of  town  "  to  where  you  can  get  your 
breath,  dear,  and  see  civilized  people  again." 

Gladys  had  come  reluctantly,  and  only 
because  old  Van  Duyn  had  given  her  orders  to 
that  effect  by  telegraph.  He  had  told  her  that 
Helen  was  beautiful,  accomplished  and  fasci- 


1 1 4  JUGGERNA  UT: 


nating,  by  way  of  softening  the  command  to 
his  daughter,  though  he  wrote  and  sent  the 
telegram  half  an  hour  before  he  was  presented 
to  the  woman  whom  he  thus  confidently  com 
mended. 

Gladys  was  not  much  given  to  trusting  her 
father's  judgment  of  women,  or  his  accuracy 
of  statement,  where  he  had  an  object  in  view, 
and  so  that  part  of  the  dispatch  she  counted  as 
so  many  superfluous  words,  paid  for  without 
occasion  ;  but  she  understood  clearly  enough 
that  her  papa,  for  some  reason  connected  with 
business — all  his  reasons  centred  in  business 
— meant  her  to  make  as  much  as  possible  of 
Helen  Braine,  and  so  she  arrived  in  the  city 
fully  prepared  to  pretend  a  great  liking  for  the 
wild  Westerner  with  big  feet,  whom  she  ex 
pected  to  find  there. 

Perhaps  the  agreeable  surprise  helped,  but, 
whatever  the  cause,  Gladys  Van  Duyn  fell  in 
love  with  Helen  at  first  sight,  and  went  rejoic 
ingly  back  to  Dorp  House,  the  family  place 
on  the  Sound,  where  the  Van  Duyns  were 
accustomed  to  entertain  their  friends  by 
platoons,  and  make  a  revel  of  the  summer. 

Gladys  was  a  prudent  young  women,  whose 
twenty  summers  had  not  been  misspent;  so, 
when  she  saw  Helen  and  arranged  to  have  her 
for  a  guest  during  an  indefinite  period,  she 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  I  I  5 

decided  that  Grayson  should  put  his  yacht  out 
of  commission  immediately,  and  rest  himself 
with  a  little  stay  in  Switzerland.  Grayson 
accepted  the  arrangement,  under  the  impres 
sion  that  he  had  been  eagerly  contemplating 
something  of  the  sort  for  months,  and  his 
departure  was  made  so  promptly  that  the  only 
thought  he  had  time  to  give  to  Helen  was  that 
she  was  a  "  dooced  fine  woman,  don't  you 
know." 

Braine  remained  in  the  city  during  the  day, 
but  joined  Helen  in  the  evening  at  the  sumptu 
ous  Van  Duyn  summer  place. 

Helen  was  puzzled  to  understand  it  all,  and 
in  her  bewilderment  she  questioned  Edgar  a 
little  as  to  the  cause  of  her  sudden  finding 
of  favor  in  the  eyes  of  people  who  had  known 
nothing  of  her  till  then,  and  that,  too,  in  a 
society  which  is  not  much  given  to  looking 
beyond  its  own  borders  for  people  to  "  take 
up." 

Braine  laughed  and  said:  "You  are  much 
too  modest,  Helen.  You  never  did  appreciate 
your  own  charms,"  and  Helen,  upon  thinking 
the  matter  over,  found  a  sufficient  explanation 
in  the  thought  that  nobody  could  possibly 
come  in  contact  with  her  Edgar  without 
recognizing  his  superiority  of  mind  and  char 
acter,  and  wanting  to  make  him  an  intimate. 


1 1 6  JUGGEKNA  UT : 


"  These  men  have  met  him  down  town,"  she 
reflected,  "and  have  been  charmed  with  him, 
of  course.  In  order  to  get  as  close  to  him  as 
possible,  they  have  taken  up  poor  me.  Well, 
that  places  a  duty  on  me.  I  must  acquit 
myself  as  well  as  I  can,  for  dear  Ed's  sake." 

And  how  she  did  acquit  .herself ! 

Gladys  Van  Duyn  wrote  rapturous  reams 
about  her  new  friend  to  all  her  old  friends 
at  Newport  and  elsewhere,  and  in  angular,  up 
and  down  characters,  which  allowed  but  three 
words  to  the  line,  and  five  lines  to  the  page, 
sang  Helen's  praises  in  so  many  keys  that  only 
its  scattered  condition  in  summer  cantonments 
saved  the  feminine  part  of  New  York  society 
from  panic  lest  the  new  star  should  elect  to 
pass  the  winter  in  the  metropolitan  firmament. 

Gladys  encouraged  confidence  and  order 
somewhat  by  assuring  her  friends,  and  especi 
ally  her  enemies,  to  whom,  of  course  she  sent 
her  longest  and  most  affectionate  epistles,  that 
Helen  was  "awfully  much  married  to  the 
dearest  fellow  in  the  world,  and  hasn't  a 
notion  of  flirting  in  her." 

In  the  mean  time,  Helen  confided  her  emo 
tions  and  experiences  mainly  to  her  diary, 
though  her  writing  in  that  literary  work  varied 
considerably  in  frequency  and  fulness  according 
to  her  moods  and  the  demands  upon  her  time. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  I  1 7 


[From  Helenas  Diary.] 

Jiily,  1 8 — .  This  has  been  a  very  delightful 
day.  I  must  record  its  happenings  while  Edgar 
is  out.  There  is  no  moment  that  can  be  spared 
to  record  anything  when  he  is  here. 

This  morning  I  again  went  shopping.  There 
is  something  delightful  in  being  able  to  walk 
into  a  shop  with  the  assurance  that  you  are 
going  to  buy  something.  I  do  not  mean  to  be 
extravagant.  I  seem  to  have  regained  my 
mental  equilibrium  to  some  extent,  and  am 
able  to  select  judiciously  what  I  want  ;  and 
besides  it  would  be  something  of  an  effort  to 
me,  I  think,  to  be  extravagant.  I  have  had  to 
be  economical  so  long,  and  extravagance  seems 
vulgar.  There  is  no  pleasure  in  having  more 
things  than  one  wants,  and  no  delicate  mind 
can  rejoice  in  spending  money  merely  for  the 
sake  of  spending.  In  fact,  the  idea  that  I 
need  have  nothing  to  do  with  that  part  of  the 
matter  multiplies  the  enjoyment  of  the  indul 
gence  a  hundredfold. 

I  have  selected  some  charming  things,  and 
my  gowns  will  be  very  beautiful.  They  have 
enabled  me  to  understand  myself  better. 
They  interpret  my  points,  as  it  were,  and  I  am 
now  capable  of  making  telling  suggestions.  I 


1 1 8  JUG  GERNA  UT: 


have  decided  to  have  nothing  fashionable. 
Everything  shall  illustrate  style,  not  fashion. 
There  is  something  intolerable  in  the  thought 
that  you  are  wearing  your  clothes  like  a  mani 
kin  ;  to  walk  in  the  streets  and  be  conscious  of 
a  Vanderbilt  on  one  side,  with  clothing  far 
richer  than  you  have  on,  which  you  have  tried 
to  copy,  as  well  as  limited  means  will  enable 
you  ;  and  on  the  other  side,  a  shop  girl,  and 
behind  her,  a  washerwoman,  who  are  reflections 
of  your  fashion,  but  falling  as  far  short  of  you 
as  you  do  of  the  woman  whose  purse  is  on  the 
Vanderbiltean  scale ;  to  know  that  there  is 
this  eternal  similarity  to  be  seen  among  the 
entire  multitudes  ! 

I  have  decided  that  fashion  is  intolerable, 
and  style  indispensable.  I  have  decided  my 
own  style.  I  shall  not  change  it.  It  could  not 
be  improved  for  me,  and  so  there  is  no  justifi 
cation  for  a  change.  I  think  a  woman's  style 
should  be  illustrative  of  her  mind.  Of  course, 
if  she  has  no  mind  of  her  own,  then  one  does 
not  expect  her  to  have  a  style  of  her  own.  I 
have  a  mind  of  my  own. 

Edgar  says  we  are  to  remain  here  six  weeks 
longer,  and  then  return  to  Thebes  for  a  little 
time.  While  every  moment  here  is  one  of  hap 
piness,  I  cannot  help  a  little  longing  for  the 
cottage,  as  we  had  planned  it.  I  believe  I 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  1 19 

would  even  have  foregone  all  these  charming 
new  things  for  it.  I  do  not  have  Edgar  en 
tirely  to  myself,  but  after  all,  I  experience  such 
a  delight  after  waiting  a  time  for  him  to 
come,  that  it  may  be  an  advantage. 

He  seems  to  regard  me  with  wonder,  amaze 
ment  almost.  Last  night,  he  looked  at  me  for 
a  long  time  and  finally  said  : 

"Honor  is  well  lost  for  you." 

It  made  me  shiver  a  little  to  hear  him  speak 
so,  and  I  put  my  hand  over  his  mouth,  but  at 
the  same  time  it  gave  me  a  thrill  of  happiness 
— as  it  would  even  had  he  said,  "  I  could  com 
mit  murder  for  you,"  for  nothing  could  express 
his  love  as  that  did. 

If  he  loves  me  better  than  honor,  I  know 
how  well  that  is.  Is  not  honor  dearer  to  Ed 
gar  Braine  than  his  life  ?  It  is  strange  how 
women  can  even  love  wickedness — when  they 
are  the  cause  of  it. 

I  think  I  shall  never  be  able  fully  to  enjoy 
anything  because  of  my  astonishment.  Edgar 
says  every  little  while,  with  my  face  between 
his  hands  :  "  You  astonished  child,  how  I  love 
you !  " 

There  is  nothing  in  heaven  above  nor  on 
this  earth  so  wonderful  and  glorious  as  married 
life.  Sometimes  I  do  not  know  what  I  say  or 
do.  I  am  seized  with  a  sudden  ecstasy.  At 


I2O  JUGGERNAUT: 


these  times  I  find  myself  wondering  if  I  have 
done  or  said  anything  that  Edgar  might  not 
approve.  I  sometimes  fear  that  I  may  not  be 
quite  womanly.  I  do  not  know  why,  but  I 
feel  so,  and  when  I  tried  to  explain  it,  he  held 
me  away  from  him  and  smiled  a  little  with 
his  eyes,  and  said  in  his  dearest  voice- — '^Yes, 
quite  womanly,"  and  then  he  drew  me  to  him 
and  said  :  "  Whatever  you  say  or  do  I  am  sure 
to  approve.  Whatever  you  say  or  clo  is  your 
right,"  and  then  I  went  off  into  an  ecstasy  right 
then,  and  forgot  again  what  I  said  or  did,  and 
so  I  was  very  glad  that  he  approved,  and  that 
it  was  very  womanly  and  right. 


A  VF.rr.F.n  KRCORD.  121 


XIII. 

[From  Helen's  Diary,  j 

A  FEW  evenings  ago  some  gentlemen  called 
to  see  Edgar.  He  entertained  them  here  in  our 
own  parlor,  and  something  in  their  manner 
produced  a  great  change  in  my  way  of  looking 
at  matters. 

I  had  been  in  a  species  of  revolt  against 
Edgar's  way  of  directing  me  how  I  was  to 
receive  the  different  women  who  called  upon 
me — how  I  was  to  be  very  deferential  to  this 
one,  haughty  to  that  one,  and  to  assume  an 
easy  familiarity  with  the  other,  all  according  to 
their  husbands'  relations  to  Edgar's  business. 
He  seemed  to  be  making  use  of  me,  and  the 
sense  of  being  made  use  of  in  that  way  was 
degrading,  especially  as  it  involved  insincerity 
in  my  manner  toward  these  women.  But 
when  I  saw  how  these  men  of  wealth  and 
influence  treated  Edgar,  it  opened  my  eyes  to 


1 2  2  JUG  GEKNA  UT : 

my  stupidity.  They  recognized  him  in  every 
way  as  a  superior,  a  man  to  be  heard  with 
deference,  and  whose  opinions  were  to  be 
treated  with  profound  respect. 

As  I  listened  and  watched,  a  mingled  feeling 
of  exaltation  and  humiliation  swept  over  me  ; 
exaltation  in  the  thought  that  this  superior 
man  loved  me  and  had  made  me  his  wife,  and 
shame  that  I  had  ventured,  even  in  my  own 
mind,  to  question  his  instructions.  I  resolved 
then  that  I  would  devote  my  life  to  the  task 
of  making  myself  a  fit  companion  for  him,  and 
would  never  again  assume  to  doubt  anything 
he  might  say  or  do.  There  will  always  be 
things  that  I  cannot  understand,  of  course,  but 
that  is  because  I  am  not  his  equal  in  ability 
and  knowledge,  and  I  can  at  least  accept  his 
superior  judgment  concerning  them. 

One  of  the  gentlemen  was  charming,  a  Mr. 
Van  Duyn.  His  daughter,  Gladys,  was  to  call 
upon  me  the  next  day,  and  Edgar  had  been  at 
great  pains  to  impress  me  with  the  importance 
of  receiving  her  in  just  the  right  way.  I  was 
to  wait  for  her  to  make  all  the  advances,  and 
to  receive  them  with  becoming  appreciation. 
I  almost  hated  the  girl  in  advance,  till  I  saw 
her  father.  Then  that  feeling  passed  away. 
He  is  a  somewhat  grave  gentleman,  whose 
earnestness  impresses  one.  I  liked  him  and 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  12 3 

decided  that  I  should  like  his  daughter  very 
much. 

After  they  left,  Edgar  stood  at  the  window 
looking  down  into  the  streets  below.  He 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  me.  My  heart  was 
so  full  of  pride  and  a  desire  to  be  with  him  in 
everything,  that  I  was  oppressed  and  could 
not  speak.  It  seemed  to  me  that  we  had 
come  to  a  fork  in  the  road,  and  I  must  decide 
whether  I  should  go  with  him,  or  travel  the 
other  path  alone.  There  already  seemed  to 
be  a  little  distance  between  us.  I  felt  the 
tears  coming  into  my  eyes,  and  I  went  to  the 
window  and  touched  him.  He  turned  and 
looked  at  me  with  a  little  smile,  but  he  looked 
abstracted  and  a  little  sorrowful.  I  could  no 
longer  endure  it  and  I  burst  into  sobs.  He 
took  me  at  once  in  his  arms  and  soothed  me, 
but  it  was  in  a  way  that  impressed  me  with 
the  thought  that  I  was  a  child  to  him,  who 
was  irresponsible  and  needed  protection, 
instead  of  a  woman  who  shared,  his  hopes  and 
ambitions  and  thoughts. 

I  suddenly  threw  my  arms  about  him,  and 
begged  him  to  let  me  help  him,  and  to  make 
me  understand  all  things  that  he  strove  for. 
The  half  shadow  on  his  face  disappeared,  and 
a  strange  gladness  took  its  place.  He  held  me 
very  close  and  said  solemnly : 


124  JUGGERNAUT: 


"  Our  life,  love  and  ambition,  failure  or  suc 
cess,  shall  be  mutual.  We  are  man  and  wife 
— what  can  mean  more?" 

I  met  Miss  Van  Duyn  the  next  day.  I  will 
say  little  of  her.  She  is  a  woman  I  love. 
Strangely  enough,  I  could  not  try  a  system  of 
propitiation.  I  looked  at  her  and  thought  "This 
is  my  equal."  She  is  neither  superior  nor  infe 
rior  to  me,  and  she  seemed  to  know  it  at  once. 
She  is  calm,  cold,  dignified,  with  a  high 
bred  trick  of  hand  and  head  ;  sweet  toned  and 
fascinating.  There  is  something  subtle  about 
her.  I  was  impressed  the  moment  she  entered 
the  room  with  her  immaculateness,  her  irre- 
proachableness  of  thought  and  feeling.  She  is 
a  woman  who  might  be  greatly  good  or  greatly 
wicked  I  believe — though  one  instinctively 
believes  her  to  be  greatly  good.  There  has 
sprung  up  between  us  a  strange  intimacy — no 
familiarity  whatever,  but  a  dignified  intimacy. 

Edgar  was  at  first  half  amazed,  and  then 
held  out  his  arms  and  said  :  "  I  ought  to  have 
known,  though,  that  it  would  be  so  ;  that  my 
wife  did  not  need  experience  to  make  her 
prized  even  by  the  most  experienced  of  peo 
ple." 

I  took  luncheon  with  Miss  Van  Duyn  yester 
day.  To-night  Edgar  and  I  dined  with  her  at 
Delmonico's.  I  am  tired  and  in  a  sort  of  maze, 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  125 

but  have  felt  impelled  to  write  while  Edgar 
was  down-stairs,  smoking.  I  hear  him  coming 
down  the  corridor  now.  I  know  his  step  as 
well  as  his  voice.  This  dinner  to-night  has 
affected  me  peculiarly.  It  has  seemed  to  open 
to  me  a  new  life,  a  life  that  is  almost  as 
desirable  as  the  one  I  have  dreamed  of — the 
life  in  the  cottage  at  Thebes,  with  my  editor 
and  his  great  plans,  and  his  greater  love.  It 
is  a  life  of  beauty  and  intelligence  and  luxury. 
It  has  impressed  me  strangely.  I  have  a  feel 
ing  that  perhaps,  in  time,  even  I  would  not  be 
out  of  place  there — with  Edgar  who  would 
reign  there.  I— 


A  man  is  in  the  door  way.  He  has  stood 
watching  the  woman  at  the  table,  who  has 
written  on  unconscious  of  his  presence,  for  a 
moment. 

She  sits  with  her  delicate  face  turned  half 
towards  him,  her  graceful,  sunny  head  bent 
over  the  paper,  one  white  hand  guiding  her 
pen,  the  other  resting  on  the  paper. 

There  is  a  magnetism,  a  sweetness,  a  rare 
charm  and  simplicity  about  her.  And  one 
looks  at  the  man  in  the  door-way,  and  knows 
that  they  are  man  and  wife,  of  a  truth. 


126  JUGGERNAUT: 


XIV. 

HELEN  had  no  opportunity  to  decline 
Gladys  Van  Duyn's  invitation  to  Dorp  House, 
the  Van  Duyn  summer  place  on  the  Sound, 
even  if  she  had  been  reluctant  to  go  thither, 
as,  in  a  certain  way,  she  was.  She  craved 
seclusion  with  her  husband,  but  she  also 
craved  a  fuller  immersion  in  that  life  of  ease 
and  art  and  culture  in  which  she  had  as  yet 
only  dabbled  with  her  feet.  She  was  a  trifle 
appalled  by  her  own  ignorance  of  the  ways  of 
that  life,  and  shrank  a  little  from  it,  as  one 
shrinks  from  the  cold  bath  while  still  desiring 
its  shock. 

But  there  was  no  choice  left  to  her.  Gladys 
Van  Duyn  was  a  peremptory  little  lady,  accus 
tomed  to  have  her  own  winning  way,  and 
moreover,  the  whole  matter  had  been  arranged 
between  the  elder  Van  Duyn  and  Braine 
before  it  was  mentioned  to  Helen  at  all. 

Dorp  House  was  within   easy  reach  of  the 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  12J 

city,  so  that  no  business  obstacle  interposed. 
It  would  be  infinitely  pleasantcr  for  Helen  to 
rest  there  than  to  swelter  in  a  hotel  ;  Van 
Duyn  and  Braine  had  need  of  many  and  pro 
longed  conferences  over  the  business  opera 
tions  in  which  they  were  engaged,  and  Van 
Duyn  wished  Braine  to  meet  a  number  of 
gentlemen  whose  connection  with  that  busi 
ness  it  was  necessary  to  conceal  as  much  as 
possible.  These  were  so  often  Van  Duyn's 
guests  in  summer  that  the  necessary  confer 
ences  with  them  could  be  had  at  Dorp  House 
without  observation,  whereas  any  meeting  in 
town  would  have  set  tongues  wagging. 

Thus  all  arguments  pointed  in  one  way,  and 
it  only  remained  for  Helen  to  discover  that 
the  change  would  be  beneficial  to  Braine,  on 
whom  heat  and  work  were  beginning  to  have 
some  effect,  in  order  that  she  should  dismiss 
all  her  little  fears  and  hesitations. 

It  was  not  until  she  had  grown  somewhat 
used  to  the  sumptuous  but  easy  hospitality  of 
the  house  that  she  again  resumed  her  diary. 


[From  Helen's  Diary.] 

I  have  had  no  time   to  write  for  many  days. 
I  am  living  in  a  whirl  of  excitement,  and  yet 


1 2  8  fUG  GERNA  UT: 


there  is  no  occasion  for  excitement,  as  I  am 
made  to  feel  that  I  can  really  do  precisely  as  I 
please. 

The  charm  of  this  house's  hospitality  is  that 
it  sets  one  free.  I  need  never  go  anywhere, 
or  make  the  least  apology  for  not  going.  I 
need  not  go  to  bed  or  get  up  till  I  like.  I 
need  never  appear  at  a  meal  if  I  wish  to  stay 
away,  and  I  need  not  wonder  what  anybody 
will  think.  And  yet  I  feel  as  if  I  were  in  a 
whirl  of  excitement,  I  suppose  because  all  the 
people  about  me  are  so  bright,  and  the 
atmosphere  so  intellectual.  Every  species  of 
high  thought  is  represented  here.  Among 
the  guests  are  artists,  connoisseurs,  musicians, 
authors,  statesmen,  financiers,  and  a  world  of 
brilliant  and  beautiful  women.  Good  taste 
seems  the  only  law  existing  or  necessary  in 
this  society.  It  never  occurred  to  me  before, 
but  good  taste  seems  to  be  a  complete  code  of 
morals,  whose  observance  renders  all  other 
statutes  unnecessary. 

Edgar  is  ever  the  lover, — one  whose  caresses 
and  endearments  are  never  exhausted,  and 
there  is  endless  delight  in  the  thought  that  my 
life  holds  nothing  but  to-morrows  with  him. 

Gladys  is  altogether  such  as  I  imagined  her 
to  be  at  first  sight — a  charming,  delicate 
woman,  full  of  affection  that  never  blunders, 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  129 

and  is  never  lacking  in  tact.  She  is  the  most 
graceful  hostess  in  the  world.  When  I  see  her 
jn  this  capacity,  a  sudden  longing  to  have  such 
a  home,  and  such  opportunities  to  bring  about 
me  such  men  and  women,  comes  over  me.  I 
never  mentioned  this  to  Edgar  until  last  night, 
for  I  feared  he  would  think  me  dissatisfied — 
and  that  is  impossible.  I  must  always  be 
happy  where  he  is. 

The  cottage  at  Thebes  is  not  forgotten,  and 
at  times,  amid  all  this  luxury  and  charm,  I 
long  for  it  with  Edgar  all  to  myself. 

Last  night  I  said  something  that  conveyed 
my  thought  to  him,  quite  by  accident.  I  was 
confused  for  a  moment  afterward,  and  wanted 
to  turn  it  off ;  but  a  sudden  happy  light  came 
into  Ed's  eyes,  and  he  said  :  "  You  would  like 
to  live  like  this  ?  "  I  admitted  it  a  little  reluc 
tantly,  but  told  him  that  I  would  be  just  as 
well  satisfied,  though,  when  we  were  back  in 
Thebes.  He  said  that  he  was  glad  to  know 
that  this  life  made  me  happy,  and  that  if  I  had 
not  the  ambition  for  it,  at  least  the  life  would 
not  be  distasteful  to  me  ;  that  in  another  year 
I  should  entertain  these  same  people  in  my 
own  house,  and  that  that  house  should  be  where 
I  wished  it  to  be. 

This  produced  in  me  a  strange  emotion.  It 
was  one  of  joyous  intoxication — and  regret.  I 


130  JUGGERNAUT: 

don't  know  what  the  regret  was  for,  and  it  van 
ished  in  a  moment. 

Every  one  is  very  attentive  to  us.  Edgar  at 
once  took  the  reins  in  his  own  hands.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  effort  on  his  part.  He  ap 
peared  to  be  almost  unconscious  of  it.  They 
are  people  whom  he  had  never  seen  before, 
but  people  that  every  one  hears  of.  There  is 
something  almost  aggressively  non-aggressive 
in  Edgar's  manner.  It  is  impossible  that  he 
should  appear  in  any  company  or  walk  through 
a  room  without  impressing  every  one  who  sees 
him. 

To-night  there  were  some  strange  guests  at 
dinner,  and  I  was  seated  next  to  one  of  them, 
while  Edgar  took  in  Gladys.  My  neighbor 
did  not  understand  that  I  was  Edgar's  wife, 
and  during  dinner  the  conversation  turned  on 
some  public  question,  and  some  one  referring  to 
Edgar  for  his  opinion,  he  gave  it.  He  seemed 
to  forget  the  company  after  a  moment,  he  was 
so  deeply  interested  in  the  subject,  and  talked 
on.  Every  one  at  the  table  seemed  suddenly 
to  cease  talking,  and  to  be  listening  intently  to 
him.  I  forgot  them,  myself,  everything  but 
Edgar  and  his  voice.  There  is  a  quality  in  his 
voice  that  I  have  never  known  in  any  other 
person's.  It  is  a  magnetic  quality  that  com 
pels  one,  that  fascinates  one. 


A    VEILED  RECOKD.  131 

When  he  stopped  speaking  every  one  was 
silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  a  murmur  of  ap 
proval  ran  round  the  table. 

The  man  next  to  me  turned  and  said  :  "  Do 
you  remember  the  gentleman's  name  ?  "  and  I 
said,  "  Yes,  Mr.  Braine,"  and  he  said  with  a 
sudden  surprise,  "  The  man  who  has  just — 
Why,  he  is  a  statesman  ;  I  had  thought  him 
only  a  speculator  !  " 

He  said  it  with  a  funny  little  snap  of  his 
teeth,  and  a  decisive  nod.  I  did  not  dare  say 
that  I  was  Edgar's  wife.  I  felt  that  I  deserved 
punishment  for  daring  to  be  his  wife.  I  can 
not  be  interested  in  the  conversation  of  people, 
unless  they  are  talking  of  him.  Every  one 
seems  to  have  discovered  this,  and  so  they  all 
talk  to  me  a  great  deal  of  him. 

One  or  two  of  the  gentlemen  here  I  do  not 
like  particularly.  I  seem  to  afford  them  a 
certain  amusement,  and  they  endeavor  to  cor 
ner  me  on  every  occasion,  and  talk  to  me. 

One  of  them  said  last  night :  "You  are  one 
of  the  most  naive  women  that  I  have  ever 
known."  It  made  me  a  little  angry  for  some 
reason,  and  I  told  Edgar  about  it  afterward, 
and  he  held  my  face  in  his  hands  and  said  : 
"  Well,  you  certainly  are,"  and  his  eyes 
smiled.  I  seemed  to  like  it  when  Edgar  said 
it. 


132  JUGGERNAUT: 

There  is  a  Mr.  Everet  coming  to-morrow. 
Every  one  seems  to  enjoy  the  anticipation  of 
his  visit.  Gladys  talks  a  great  deal  of  him. 
He  is  evidently  a  very  superior  man.  We 
leave  here  to-morro\v  night,  and  return  to 
Thebes.  I  have  a  little  curiosity  to  meet  the 
man,  and  hope  that  he  will  come  before  we 
leave. 

August.  We  are  still  at  Dorp  House,  and 
do  not  leave  for  some  days  yet.  Mr.  Everet 
came  yesterday  morning.  He  is  a  charming 
man,  and  reminds  me  of  Edgar  in  many  ways. 
He  is  a  dignified  man,  too.  I  do  not  like  men 
who  do  not  impress  me  as  earnest  and  grave. 
He  is  a  courtly  sort  of  man.  I  was  very  anx 
ious  to  see  him,  for  I  desired  to  compare — im 
partially —  Edgar  and  a  man  who  is  so  much 
sought  after  and  lauded  for  his  brilliancy. 

Well,  I  have  seen  him.  Edgar  is  only  the 
more  magnificent.  Mr.  Everet  and  he  seem  to 
appreciate  each  other  greatly.  They  smoke 
together  and  have  had  a  long  talk.  They 
seem  to  have  a  great  respect  for  each  other's 
opinions — though  they  do  not  agree. 

After  dinner  this  evening,  Mr.  Everet  came 
out  on  the  piazza  where  I  was  sitting,  and  we 
had  a  delightful  talk  for  an  hour.  I  did  not 
feel  at  all  embarrassed.  I  have  never  felt  just 
that  since  we  left  Thebes.  I  feel  often  that  I 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  133 

am  not  the  equal  of  many  of  those  whom  I 
meet,  in  an  intellectual  way,  and  I  regret  it, 
but  I  have  the  assurance  that  I  am  honest  in 
doing  my  best  for  Edgar,  and  that  they  will 
overlook  any  mistake  of  mine,  kindly,  as  I  am 
his  wife. 

We  talked  of  many  things,  and  finally  he  re 
gretted  that  we  were  going  so  soon,  and  hoped 
that  he  would  see  us  in  Washington — his  in 
terests  are  there,  and  he  spends  the  winters 
there,  and  does  something  politically.  I  don't 
know  anything  about  that.  I  told  him  about 
Thebes,  and  that  we  were  to  live  there  ;  that 
we  had  taken  a  cottage,  and  that  I  did  not 
suppose  that  we  could  go  to  Washington  for  a 
long  time,  as  I  thought  we  should  have  to  be 
quite  economical. 

For  some  reason  I  found  myself  talking  very 
confidentially  to  him,  and  we  seemed  to  have 
known  each  other  a  long  time.  I  told  him 
about  the  people  at  Thebes,  and  the  Enter 
prise,  and  that  it  was  just  possible  that  some 
time  we  could  live  somewhere  else,  and  differ 
ently — a  little  like  this. 

He  listened  very  attentively  and  sympathet 
ically.  There  seemed  to  be  a  puzzled  and  sur 
prised  expression  on  his  face  at  first,  but  soon 
it  disappeared,  and  he  smiled  and  said  medita 
tively  :  "  Yes,  I  understand." 


134  JUGGERNAUT: 


After  a  while  I  happened  to  look  up,  and 
Edgar  stood  leaning  against  the  railing,  watch 
ing  me.  There  was  a  beautiful  look  in  his 
eyes,  and  he  and  Mr.  Everet  looked  at  each 
other  and  smiled. 

I  thought  they  seemed  a  little  amused,  but 
very  much  pleased.  I  asked  Edgar  afterwards, 
and  he  said,  He  could  never  look  otherwise 
than  pleased  when  listening  to  me,  could  he? 

I  presume  he  can't. 


It  was  with  a  little  sigh  of  regret  that  Helen 
received  the  final  summons  for  an  immediate 
return  to  Thebes.  She  reproached  herself  for 
the  feeling,  and  resolutely  made  up  her  mind 
that  her  one  supreme  longing  was  to  begin  the 
quiet  life  she  had  planned  to  lead  with  Braine, 
in  the  little  white  cottage,  with  the  bed  of 
sweet-williams  before  the  door. 

Gladys  had  solemnly  promised  to  visit  her 
there  during  Lent,  when,  "  Society  is  so  deadly 
dull,  you  know."  (A  promise  which  she  kept, 
making  Thebes  her  place  of  retirement  and 
meditation  in  preparation  for  her  marriage 
after  Easter.) 

Braine  set  out  on  the  return  journey  with  a 
peculiar  buoyancy  of  spirits  which  helped  to 
drive  away  Helen's  little  regrets. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  135 

"Never  mind,  dear,"  he  said,  as  they  took 
their  places  in  the  palace  car,  you  have  not 
seen  the  last  of  your  New  York  friends.  You 
shall  spend  winters  there  before  you  are  many 
years  older.  I  have  only  to  emphasise  myself 
in  Thebes,  and  then  we  shall  seek  larger 
pastures." 

"  But  hasn't  this  trip  cost  you  a  great  deal 
of  money,  Ed  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  hasn't  impoverished  me,  at  any 
rate,"  he  answered,  with  his  queer  smile. 
"  Perhaps  that  is  because  I  am  not  altogether 
the  paymaster." 

But  he  did  not  explain. 


1 36  JUGGERNA  UT: 


XV. 

ABNER  HILDRETH  was  closeted  in  the  parlor 
of  his  bank  with  a  grave,  but  eager-faced  man 
of  perhaps  fifty,  who  sat  with  his  left  hand 
doubled  up  into  a  fist,  while  he  snapped  the 
spaces  between  the  knuckles  with  the  fingers  of 
the  right,  making  a  succession  of  little  nervous 
snaps,  which  would  have  annoyed  a  more 
irritable  person  than  Hildreth. 

The  banker  had  been  reading  aloud  to  his 
companion,  and  half  a  dozen  copies  of  the 
Thebes  Daily  Enterprise  lay  open  on  a  chair 
by  his  side.  Hildreth  had  been  reading  the 
leading  articles  one  after  the  other,  and  had 
just  concluded,  the  series. 

"  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  it,  Duncan.  I 
don't  know  what  it  all  means,  or  how  much." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  only  guessing,  and  getting 
things  wrong.  These  newspaper  men  often  do 
that,  you  know." 

"  Yes —  '    returned    Hildreth,    meditatively, 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  137 


"  but  Braine  isn't  that  sort.  He  is  apt. to  sur 
prise  you  just  the  other  way.  When  you 
squeeze  him  to  see  if  he  knows  what  he  has 
been  saying,  you're  apt  to  find  out  he  knows  a 
eood  deal  more.  He's  a  cautious  fellow,  and 

l"> 

not  too  previous."  [Hildreth's  speech  declines 
to  reduce  itself  to  subjection,  and  must  be 
reported  faithfully.]  "  Besides,  I  particularly 
cautioned  him  when  he  began  this  series  on 
'  Thebes  as  a  Railroad  Centre,'  to  go  slow,  and 
deal  in  glittering  generalities.  I  told  him  we 
weren't  quite  ready  to  cull  the  hand  yet." 

"  What  did  he  say?" 

"  Not  much.  He  said  he  understood  the 
situation,  and  I  suppose  he  really  thought  so. 
I'm  afraid  he's  upset  the  milk  pail.  I  wish  I'd 
taken  him  into  full  confidence." 

"  I  wish  you  had,  almost.  But  if  you  had, 
we  should  have  had  to  let  him  in  a  good  deal 
deeper  than  we  intend.  I  suppose  he's  keen 
enough  to  know  how  thick  the  butter  is  on 
a  slice  of  bread,  when  he  gets  a  good  look 
at  it?" 

"  Keen  enough  ?  Yes,  he's  keen  enough  for 
anything.  I'm  afraid  he's  been  too  keen  for  us. 
I  don't  know  what  he's  up  to,  or  how  much  he 
knows,  but  it  looks  serious.  Maybe  after  all  it 
would  have  been  cheaper  to  let  him  in  on  the 
ground  floor,  instead  of  pretending.  What  if 


1 3  8  JUGGERNA  UT: 


he's  leased  the  ground  floor  himself,  and  made 
up  his  mind  to  turn  us  out  ?  " 

"  Had  he  money  enough  for  that?" 

"  No,  I  suppose  not.  But  brains  count 
sometimes,  and  he's  got  brains.  Couldn't  you 
find  out  anyway  what  Van  Duyn  means  to 
do?" 

"No.  He  said  he  was  in  other  things,  and 
couldn't  go  in  with  us.  Of  course  that  means 
whatever  he  wanted  it  to  mean.  With  a  man 
of  his  wealth  and  banking  connections,  being 
in  one  thing  or  twenty  things,  don't  prevent 
his  going  into  others.  But  whether  he's  up  to 
anything  or  not,  I  couldn't  find  out." 

"  Well,  it  looks  bad.  Braine  played  it  very 
sharp  on  me  when  he  got  that  charter  and 
ferry  franchise.  I  didn't  know  he  knew  of 
their  existence,  or  would  dream  of  their  value 
if  he  did.  Then  he  went  to  New  York  and 
got  in  with  a  lot  of  people  there.  I  don't 
know  how.  Then  came  the  sudden  drop  in 
Northern  stock  before  we  began  selling  short. 
Somebody  must  have  been  selling  it  quietly 
for  days.  Then  when  we  went  in  to  buy,  you 
couldn't  get  a  controlling  interest  at  any  price, 
and  all  we  can  make  out  is  that  a  big  block  of 
it  is  held  off  the  market.  Now  comes  this 
series  of  articles." 

"  Read  that  last  paragraph  again." 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  139 

Hildreth  took  up  the  paper  and  read : 

"  These  plans  are  now  about  matured,  and 
the  hopes  of  Thebes  approach  fruition.  It  is 
yet  too  soon  to  publish  particulars,  but  this 
much,  at  any  rate,  may  be  stated.  A  strong 
body  of  capitalists  have  secured  control  of  the 
lines  south  of  Columbia.  Associated  with 
them  are  the  owners  of  the  franchise  for  the 
connecting  line  between  Thebes  and  Columbia. 
Contracts  for  the  rapid  construction  of  that 
line  have  been  let,  and  the  road  will  be  in 
operation  by  the  new  year.  Negotiations  are 
in  progress,  or  soon  will  be,  for  a  traffic 
arrangement  with  the  roads  running  north 
from  Thebes,  and  there  is  now  every  assurance 
that  the  great  tide  of  commerce  between  the 
North  and  South  will  speedily  flow  through 
this  city." 

The  two  sat  silent  for  a  time  after  the  read 
ing  was  done.  Then  Duncan  said  : 

"  Hildreth,  there's  more  behind  that  ;  the 
fellow  has  a  masked  battery  of  some  kind. 
Let's  have  the  others  down  at  once." 

Hildreth  rang  for  a  clerk  to  whom  he  said  : 

"  Telegraph  to  Tucker  and  Fanning  to  come 
down  by  the  night  express  without  fail,  and 
meet  Duncan  here  at  ten  in  the  morning. 
Say  it's  imperative." 

When  the  clerk  had  gone,  Duncan  asked : 


1 40  JUGGERNA  UT: 

"  What  shall  we  do  about  Braine,  in  the 
mean  time?  " 

"  That's  what  puzzles  me.  On  the  whole, 
I  think  we'd  better  have  him  here  to-night, 
and  have  it  out  with  him  some  way.  We 
may  not  be  able  to  manage  him,  but  I  think 
we  can.  At  all  events,  we'd  best  know  howr 
much  powder  he  has  in  his  magazine.  Con 
found  the  fellow  !  " 

"  Don't  be  too  hasty.  He  is  evidently  a 
man  we  want  with  us,  and  of  course  we  can 
get  him  in  some  way.  A  very  little  slice  of 
this  cut  will  seem  a  feast  to  him.  Send  for 
him,  and  when  we  get  him  here  we'll  manage 
him." 

Hildreth  rang  again,  and  said  to  the  answer 
ing  clerk  : 

"  Go  up  to  Braine's  after  you  lock  the  vault 
for  the  day,  and  tell  him  to  come  down  and 
see  me  here  at  eight  o'clock  sharp." 

When  this  message  was  delivered  to  Braine 
an  hour  or  two  later  the  editor  was  quietly 
reading  the  "  Biglow  Papers  "  to  his  wife  in  the 
little  white  cottage  with  the  sweet-williams 
in  front.  He  had  half  an  hour  before  re 
ceived  a  note  by  messenger,  which  he  crumpled 
up  and  threw  into  the  waste  basket.  A 
moment  later  he  picked  it  out  again,  went  into 
the  kitchen  and  placed  it  carefully  on  the  fire. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  141 

When  Hildreth's  clerk  delivered  his  sum 
mons,  Braine  quietly  said  to  him  : 

"  Take  down  my  answer  in  shorthand  and 
deliver  it  accurately.  Tell  Mr.  Hildreth  I  am 
reading  a  very  interesting  book  to  my  wife, 
and  don't  care  to  disturb  myself.  You  may 
say  to  him,  also,  that  after  he  has  had  a  talk 
with  Duncan,  who  is  with  him  now,  and 
Tucker  and  Fanning,  who  are  to  arrive  by  the 
express  at  ton  to-morrow  morning,  I  shall  be 
at  his  service  for  any  conference  he  may  think 
necessary.  Good  evening,  Charley." 

"  Why,  Ed,"  exclaimed  Helen,  as  soon  as 
the  clerk  had  gone,  "  this  reading  is  of  no 
consequence." 

"I  know  it,  dear.  In  fact  I'm  tired  of  it 
and  shall  read  no  more." 

"  Why  didn't  you  go  then  ?  It  may  be  of 
consequence." 

"  It  is— to  Hildreth." 

"  Why  did  you  send  him  so — well,  so 
curious  a  message,  then  ?  " 

"  Because  I  wanted  him  to  know  that  I  knew 
who  was  coming  and  by  what  trains." 

"  Didn't  you  get  the  information  from 
him?  " 

"  No,  dear.  He  didn't  know  it  himself  till 
he  telegraphed  for  them  an  hour  ago,  when  we 
tvere  at  tea." 


1 42  JUGGERNA  UT: 


i(  Then  how  on  earth  did  you  find   it  out?" 

"  I  pay  for  my  education,  dear,  as  I  go  on. 
The  little  note  I  burned  in  the  kitchen  brought 
me  the  information." 

"But  why  did  you  treat  Mr.  Hildreth's 
message  so — well,  so  curtly  ?  I'm  sure — 

"  My  dear,  let  me  tell  you  a  story.  There 
was  once  a  rich  man  and  a  poor  man.  The 
rich  man  .wanted  to  make  use  of  the  poor  man, 
and  he  carefully  arranged  matters  so  as  to 
make  himself  the  poor  man's  master.  When 
he  had  things  all  ready,  he  went  to  the  poor 
man  and  told  him  about  it.  He  promised  to  be 
a  kind  master  and  to  pay  the  poor  man  well 
for  serving  him.  But  the  poor  man  was  con 
stituted  a  little  curiously.  He  didn't  like  to 
have  a  master,  even  a  kind  one  who  paid  him 
well.  He  liked  to  be  master  himself,  and  so  he 
carefully  arranged  matters  so  as  to  make  him 
self  the  rich  man's  master.  When  he  had 
matters  in  readiness,  he  sent  a  reply  to  one  of 
the  rich  man's  orders,  which  let  the  rich  man 
know  that  the  poor  man  was  master  now. 
That's  a  little  fable.  But  fables  are  often 
true." 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  143 


XVI. 

IT  was  not  until  noon  of  the  next  day,  after 
two  hours  of  preparatory  conference,,  that  Hil- 
dreth  sent  Braine  as  courteous  a  note  as  his 
most  accomplished  clerk  could  manufacture, 
asking  him  to  meet  Duncan,  Tucker  and 
Fanning  in  the  bank  parlor,  "  for  consultation 
upon  matters  of  deep  interest  to  all  of  us." 

A  little  after  one,  Braine  appeared  at  the 
bank,  and  greeted  the  others  without  seeming 
in  the  least  conscious  that  he  had  kept  the 
personal  representatives  of  a  good  many  mil 
lions  of  dollars  waiting  for  an  hour. 

Meantime  the  group  had  agreed  upon  a 
plan  of  operations,  which  had  only  the  one 
defect  of  being  founded  upon  a  total  misap 
prehension  of  Braine's  situation,  attitude  and 
intentions.  A  fresh  perusal  of  the  series  of 
articles  on  "  Thebes  as  a  Railroad  Centre,"  to 
gether  with  Hildreth's  report  of  the  message 
he  had  received  from  Braine  in  answer  to  his 


1 44  JUG  GERNA  UT : 

own,  the  day  before,  had  led  the  quartette  to 
certain  conclusions. 

"  He  knows  what  we're  up  to,"  was  the  ver 
dict  of  Tucker,  a  pudgy  little  man,  with  a 
voice  at  least  an  octave  too  low  for  his  appar 
ent  bellows-power;  "  at  least  he's  worked  out 
enough  of  it  to  bank  on.  He's  making  a  strike. 
He  proposes  to  get  in  with  us,  and  it's  my 
opinion  we've  got  to  let  him  in." 

"Yes,  but  how  far?"  asked  Fanning,  a  very 
thin  person,  with  a  high  forehead,  over  which 
the  skin  seemed  stretched  with  drum  head 
tension. 

"  Well,  of  course,  a  fellow  like  that,"  said 
Hildreth,  "  isn't  like  one  of  us.  He'll  think  it 
a  big  fortune  if  we  let  him  in  enough  to  give 
him  a  little  bank  account,  and  let  his  wife  go 
to  some  fashionable  watering-place  every  sum 
mer.  He  doesn't  know  how  much  a  combina 
tion  of  this  kind  means.  My  notion  is  for  us 
to  take  his  ferry  franchise  and  the  railroad 
charter — he  doesn't  know  what  that  piece  of 
paper  is  worth,  I  fancy — and  capitalize  the 
ferry  at  two  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and 
the  railroad  at  ten  millions.  The  road  won't 
cost  more  than  three  millions  at  the  outside  to 
build,  and  a  ferry-boat  can  be  had,  with  the 
landing  traps,  for  thirty-five  thousand  dollars. 
We'll  assign  Braine  two  hundred  thousand 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  145 

dollars'  worth  of  stock  in  the  road,  and  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars  in  the  ferry  company. 
The  figures  will  knock  him  over.  Of  course, 
we  can  fix  it  so  as  to  throw  most  of  the  earn 
ings  of  the  ferry  and  connecting  road  over  to 
our  other  properties.  The  idea  of  having 
$225,000  in  anything  will  fetch  him.  It  sounds 
big,  that  sort  of  thing,  to  a  fellow  that's  rooted 
for  his  living  as  Braine  has.  He's  sharp,  but 
of  course  he  doesn't  know  how  these  things 
are  managed.  He's  had  no  experience." 

"  But  we'll  need  his  brains  now  and  then, 
Hildreth,"  said  Duncan,  "and  mustn't  set  him 
in  antagonism  to  us.  He'll  find  out  after  a 
while  what  his  stock  is  worth,  and  then  he'll 
fight  us,  sure.  Can  we  afford  to  risk  that?" 

"  That's  a  fact,"  said  Hildreth;  "  well,  how 
will  it  do  to  give  him  the  stock  and  a  clean 
cash  twenty-five  thousand  dollars?  He'll  be 
rich  on  that,  or  think  himself  so.  And  we  can 
help  him  in  his  political  schemes,  too.  He  is 
ambitious,  and  we  shall  want  him  in  politics. 
I'll  suggest  politics  after  the  money  part  is 
broached. " 

And  so,  when  Braine  entered,  Hildreth  was 
equipped. 

"  We've  been  reading  your  articles  with  in 
terest,  Braine,"  he  began,  "but  we  find  you've 
been  a  little  misled  by  your  enthusiasm  and 


1 46  JUGGERNA  UT: 


hopefulness."  A  few  months  earlier,  Hildreth 
had  called  that  sort  of  thing  "  going  off  at  half 
cock,"  but  he  thought  it  best  to  be  more  cir 
cumspect  now.  "After  all,"  he  continued, 
"  I'm  to  blame  for  it,  you  know,  because  I 
ought  to  have  kept  you  better  posted." 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me  just  wherein  I 
have  been  misled  ? "  asked  Braine,  without 
manifesting  the  least  concern  as  to  the  serious 
ness  of  his  blunders. 

"  Well,  you  see  it's  this  way.  We  haven't 
got  control  of  the  Southern  lines  yet.  Van 
Duyn  disappointed  us,  and — 

"Yes — well?"  said  Braine. 

"Your  saying  we  have  secured  control  may 
bother  us  a  little  in  the  negotiations." 

"  Did  I  say  you  had  got  control  of  the 
Southern  lines?  I  don't-recall  it." 

"  Certainly  ;  you  say,"    reading,  "  '  a   strong 
body  of  capitalists  have  secured  control  of  the 
lines  south  of  Columbia.' 
*   "  I  see.     Well  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  as  it  need  be  very  serious. 
It  will  pass  as  a  careless  newspaper  state 
ment." 

"  Certainly.  Call  it  that  and  lay  it  on  my 
shoulders.  Nobody  will  mind  me.  Well,  what 
else?" 

"  Well,   I  ought  to  have  told  you  that  we 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  147 

haven't  got  a  good  ready  yet  to  begin  work  on 
the  new  line  from  here  to  Columbia,  and  we 
haven't  yet  succeeded  in  buying  a  controlling 
interest  in  the  Northern  road,"  said  Hildreth. 

"You  never  told  me,"  said  Braine,  but 
without  any  look  of  surprise  at  the  information, 
"  that  you  contemplated  doing  anything  with 
the  Northern  road,  after  you  shut  it  off  the 
river  front  by  the  levee  transfer." 

"  Didn't  I  ?  That  must  have  been  an  over 
sight.  Well  I'll  tell  you  now.  I'll  be  perfectly 
frank,  Braine,  for  we're  all  in  one  boat  you 
know.  Our  plan  was  to  sell  Northern  down  to 
the  breaking  point  on  the  strength  of  its  being 
cut  off  from  the  river,  and  then,  when  the  bot 
tom  dropped  out  of  it,  to  go  in  and  buy  up  a 
controlling  interest,  consolidate  the  road  with 
the  Central,  and  send  the  stock  up  again." 

"Why  didn't  you  carry  out  the  plan?" 
asked  Braine,  with  languid  interest.  "  It  looks 
like  a  very  good  one." 

"  That's  where  the  trouble  lies.  Somebody 
else  sold  the  stock  short  on  the  quiet  before 
we  began,  and  he  must  have  made  a  pile  on 
the  operation  too,  for  the  market  was  sold  so 
deep  that  when  we  touched  it,  it  tumbled  to 
pieces  like  a  barrel  with  the  hoops  off.  And 
then  when  we  began  to  buy  on  the  broken 
market,  we  found  another  block  in  our  way. 


1 48  JUG  GERNA  UT: 


Somebody  had  quietly  bought  while  we  were 
selling,  and  now  holds  a  big  block  of  the  stock 
off  the  market.  We've  bought  every  share  we 
can  get,  till  we've  sent  the  market  up  to  where 
it  was  before  the  break,  and  even  a  little  higher, 
but  we  can't  get  enough  to  control." 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do  about  it  ?  "  queried 
Braine. 

"  We're  waiting  for  the  fellow  to  weaken, 
and  that's  where  the  trouble  comes  in.  Your 
article  will  stiffen  him  up  like  thunder.  You 
must  admit  that  you  were  too  previous  this 
time,  Braine." 

"  Perhaps  so.  But  what  do  you  suggest 
now?  " 

f(  Well,  we  count  on  you  to  patch  things  up. 
Can't  you  get  up  some  news  about  the  thing, 
to  knock  out  the  impression  you've  made?" 

"  No,"  answered  Braine,  "  that  would  never 
do.  The  first  condition  of  success  in  journal 
ism  is  never  to  print  false  and  misleading  news." 
"Confound  journalism!"  Hildreth  could 
not  altogether  repress  his  irritation.  "The 
whole  game  is  at  stake,  my  dear  fellow,  and 
you're  one  of  us,  you  know." 

"  Am  I  ?  How  much?  You've  never  told 
me." 

Here  Tucker  winked  at  Fanning,  and  Dun 
can  nodded  at  Tucker.  It  was  clear  that 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  149 

Brainc  was  "  striking,"  and  they  were  now  get 
ting  at  the  marrow  of  the  matter. 

"  We've  just  been  talking  that  over,"  said 
Hildrcth  with  eager  confidence;  "  and  this  is 
what  we  think  we  can  afford  to  do  for  you," 
handing  Braine  a  memorandum.  "  It's  ex 
tremely  liberal,  you  see,  but  we  want  to  be  as 
liberal  as  possible  with  you.  We  haven't  for 
gotten  how  you  served  us  at  the  pinch,  and  we 
want  your  brains  hereafter." 

Braine  scanned  the  memorandum  carelessly. 
Then  he  handed  it  back,  and  said  : 

"  My  brains  cannot  be  had  at  the  price. 
I've  been  trying  them  a  little,  recently,  and 
find  they're  worth  more  to  me  than  you 
offer." 

"  Might  I  ask,  Mr.  Braine,"  interposed  Dun 
can,  snapping  his  fingers  against  his  knuckles, 
"  what  is  your  notion  of  a  fair  arrangement 
between  us  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Braine  ;  "  and  in  or 
der  that  you  may  not  think  me  unreasonable, 
I  will  first  explain  how  matters  stand  with  me. 
In  the  first  place,  it  seems  only  proper  to  say 
that  it  was  I  who,  in  the  absence  of  any  hint 
of  your  plans  from  Mr.  Hildreth,  made  the 
mistake  of  selling  Northern  short  in  New 
York." 

"You!"      exclaimed       Hildreth.       "You! 


I  5  O  JUGGERNA  UT: 


Why,    where     on    earth    did     you     get     the 
money?  " 

"  You  lent  me  enough.  It  don't  take  a  great 
deal  of  margin  to  sell  short  with,  on  a  falling 
market.  By  the  way,  I'd  like  to  give  you  my 
check  for  the  amount  I  owe  you,  and  take  up 
my  note  before  maturity,  if  it's  all  the  same  to 
you.  Besides  I  have  some  friends  in  New 
York  who  are  pretty  strong — the  Van  Duyns 
and  others — sit  still  and  hear  me  out,  please," 
as  the  others  rose  in  astonishment  at  the  men 
tion  of  that  name.  "  As  I  was  saying,  I  sold 
Northern  short  till  the  collapse  came,  and  you 
will  be  glad  to  know  that  I  netted  a  very  com 
fortable  profit  when  the  stock  tumbled  from  73 
to  37 — just  reversing  the  figures,  which  seems 
to  me  an  interesting  coincidence.  By  that 
time,  Van  Duyn  and  his  friends  had  gone  in 
with  me  in  some  plans  I  had  formed.  We 
thought,  upon  looking  over  the  ground,  that 
we  could  see  a  way  by  which  the  North 
ern  road  could  force  its  way  to  the  river  in 
spite  of  the  levee  grant.  In  fact,  I  am  pretty 
well  convinced  that  the  grant  can  be  wholly  in 
validated  if  necessary.  I  hold  conclusive  proofs 
that  the  aldermen  were  bribed  to  make  it.  I 
thought  if  I  asked  to  have  it  rescinded,  all  par 
ties  would  probably  consent  rather  than  risk 
the  submission  of  this  proof  to  a  grand  jury." 


A    J'E/LED  RECORD.  151 

By  this  time  the  four  bankers  were  re 
duced,  as  to  their  moral  natures,  to  the  con 
dition  of  pulp.  They  said  nothing.  They 
simply  listened. 

"  However,  that  is  aside.  As  I  was  saying, 
we  thought  Northern  stock  a  good  purchase 
at  the  price,  so  we  bought  it  up  to  full  recov 
ery." 

Here  Braine  paused,  and  going  to  the  cooler 
drew  a  glass  of  water,  which  was  far  from  per 
fectly  clear  as  he  held  it  between  him  and  the 
light  for  inspection  before  drinking. 

"  Now  that  Thebes  is  sure  of  growth,  Hil- 
dreth," — it  was  the  first  time  Braine  had  ever 
spoken  to  the  banker  by  his  name,  without 
the  prefix  of  courtesy, — "  we  must  begin  to 
think  about  a  water  supply,  don't  you  think 
so  5  I'll  write  the  thing  up  in  a  few  days.  I'm 
only  waiting  for  some  books  on  the  subject, 
for  which  I  have  sent  to  New  York." 

"  Confound  the  water  supply  !  "  ejaculated 
Hildreth.  "  Go  on,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  about  Northern.  Well,  we  held 
the  block  of  stock  you  referred  to  just  now.  In 
fact  we  have  a  trifle  over  fifty-one  per  cent, 
and  we  don't  care  to  sell.  It  ought  to  go  to 
par,  or  above,  when  the  Southern  connection 
is  formed.  I  own  the  ferry  franchise,  you 
know,  and  the  Van  Duyn  syndicate — by  the 


1 5  2  JUGGERNA  UT : 


way,  Van  Duyn  is  to  be  here  next  week,  as  my 
guest.  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  asking  you 
to  meet  him  at  dinner,  Hildreth,  and  you  also, 
Mr.  Duncan,  if  you're  in  Thebes  so  long." 

He  passed  over  Tucker  and  Fanning  quite 
as  if  they  had  not  been  present.  "  As  I  was 
saying,  the  Van  Duyn  syndicate  has  a  ninety- 
nine  years  lease  on  the  lines  south  of  Colum 
bia.  That  must  have  been  what  I  referred  to 
in  the  article  where  I  spoke  of  a  '  strong  body 
of  capitalists.'  Now  our  idea  is  to  build  the 
connecting  link  south,  finish  the  Northern  line 
to  the  river,  and  make  one  system  of  our  prop 
erties.  We've  ordered,  from  Hambleton's 
yards,  a  ferry  boat  capable  of  transferring 
trains  without  breaking  freight  bulk,  or  dis 
turbing  through  passengers.  We  shall  be  in 
dependent  of  the  Central  rivalry,  of  course,  as 
that  road  will  be  dependent  on  us  for  a  south 
ern  connection  ;  but  it  was  the  general  feeling 
in  New  York  that  consolidation  is  better  than 
throat-cutting,  and  I  am  authorized  by  my  as 
sociates  to  consider  any  propositions  you  gen 
tlemen  may  see  fit  to  make  touching  a  traffic 
arrangement,  or  better  still,  a  close  alliance. 
It  might  be  possible  for  us  to  get  together  and 
arrange  for  a  consolidation  of  the  Central  with 
our  properties,  on  fair  terms.  That  is  for  you, 
gentlemen,  to  consider.  It  would  save  some 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  153 

friction,  as,  of  course,  in  the  event  of  its  not 
being  done,  we  should  naturally  not  be  able, 
with  justice  to  our  own  stockholders,  to  offer 
as  favorable  terms  on  through  business  to  a 
road  in  rivalry  with  a  part  of  our  line,  as  to  a 
road  owned  by  ourselves,  and  an  integral 
part  of  our  system.  We  shall  in  any  case  be 
as  courteous  to  you  gentlemen  of  the  Central, 
however,  as  we  can  with  a  due  regard  to  the 
welfare  of  our  own  properties.  I  think  that  is 
all  I  have  to  say,  and  as  you  gentlemen  proba 
bly  have  business  affairs  of  your  own  to  dis 
cuss,  I  will  withdraw.  Good  morning,  gentle 
men." 

What  passed  in  that  bank  parlor  after 
Brainc's  departure,  there  is  no  means  of  know 
ing  now.  Braine  felt  no  uneasiness  as  to  the 
result,  however.  He  sent  a  cipher  dispatch  to 
Van  Duyn,  and  then  went  home  to  read  "  In 
Mcmoriam  "  to  Helen  for  an  hour  before  sup 
per.  When  Van  Duyn  had  translated  the  dis 
patch,  it  read  as  follows  : 

"  Exploded  bomb  this  afternoon.  Effect  sat 
isfactory.  Delicacy  about  witnessing  a  family 
quarrel  prompted  me  to  withdraw.  They  will 
ask  for  our  terms  to-morrow,  and  accept  them. 
Have  asked  Hildreth  and  Duncan  to  meet  you 
at  dinner  next  week.  They  won't  come.  En 
gineer  reports  easy  construction  on  line  to  Co- 


154  JUGGERNAUT: 


lumbia.  Country  flat,  timber  abundant,  and 
only  two  small  bridges." 

When  Braine  shut  up  the  volume  of  Ten 
nyson  that  evening,  and  went  to  supper  with 
his  arm  around  Helen,  he  stopped,  imprinted 
a  caress  upon  her  lips  and  said  ; 

"  I  feel  this  evening  just  as  I  did  many  years 
ago,  on  the  day  I  whipped  Cale  Dodge." 

But  he  did  not  explain  why. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  155 


XVII. 

[From  Helen's  Diary.] 

WE  have  been  back  in  Thebes  for  several 
weeks.  The  cottage  is  very  charming — though 
I  certainly  did  not  realize  how  small  it  was  un 
til  I  returned.  It  needs  a  great  many  improve 
ments  before  it  will  be  quite  satisfactory. 
They  have  put  a  remarkably  ugly  paper  on 
the  walls,  and  the  ceilings  look  strange  with 
out  any.  I  think  the  paper  cannot  be  the 
same  that  I  selected  before  we  left,  for  if  I 
remember  aright  it  was  very  pretty.  I  spoke 
to  the  paper-hanger  about  it,  and  he  assured 
me  that  it  was  the  same,  so  perhaps  it  is. 

Something  must  be  done  to  the  ceilings. 
They  look  quite  startling.  I  have  not  men 
tioned  it  to  Edgar,  for  I  fear  he  might  think 
me  dissatisfied — after  all,  nothing  matters, 
with  him  to  love. 

I   have   packed  away  many  of  my  beautiful 


I  5 6  JUGGERNA  UT: 

gowns.  There  is  really  no  chance  to  wear 
them  here.  Sometimes  I  am  seized  with  a 
longing  to  put  one  on,  and  one  evening  last 
week  Edgar  and  I  dined  in  state  all  alone  at 
seven.  I  wore  my  most  ravishing  gown, 
and  made  him  put  on  evening  clothes.  He 
laughed  a  great  deal,  but  seemed  to  enjoy  it. 
My  servant  was  a  little  awkward,  but  I  felt  a 
strange  elation  at  my  success.  I  have  a  de 
sire  to  try  it  on  a  larger  scale  some. time.  Per 
haps  I  shall  some  day.  Who  knows  but  what 
Edgar  may  be  able,  some  time,  to  do  all  he 
hopes !  To  me  it  is  no  matter  whether  he 
does  or  not.  Every  day — every  hour — he 
grows  dearer  to  me.  I  long  to  see  him  again 
among  people  who  can  appreciate  such  a  man, 
and  are  his  equals  in  some  degree.  I  feel  rest 
less  when  I  think  of  him  here  in  such  a  miser 
ably  insignificant  town,  with  all  his  great 
powers.  I  have  no  ambition  for  myself,  but 
insatiable  ambition  to  have  him  appreciated 
for  what  he  is. 

Gladys  is  to  spend  the  Lenten  season  here. 
It  will  make  a  happy  break  for  me  in  the  dull 
ness  of  my  life — that  is  to  say,  in  the  unevent- 
fulness  of  it ;  it  is  never  dull  where  Edgar 
is. 

I  have  experienced  a  strange  emotion  during 
the  last  week.  It  is  the  first  real  feeling  of 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  157 

regret  that  has  come  to  me  since  our  marriage. 
I  do  not  know  that  "  regret  "  is  just  the  term 
I  should  use — 

Braine  enters  the  room  softly,  and  crossing 
the  floor  takes  Helen's  head  in  his  hands,  and 
tipping  her  face  back,  kisses  her  softly  on  the 
forehead.  Her  eyes  grow  luminous,  and  she 
drops  her  pen. 

"Ah!  you  are  home  early!  Did  Mr.  Van 
Duyn  get  off  at  ten  o'clock  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  came  straight  home  from  the  sta- 
fion."  He  walks  on  through  into  the  other 
room — 

"  Anything  to  eat,  dear  ?"  going  on  out  into 
the  kitchen.  Helen  follows  him  into  the 
pantry,  and  seats  herself  on  a  cracker  box,  with 
a  wave  of  her  hand  at  the  shelves  and  towards 
the  cupboard.  She  goes  on  talking  about  Van 
Duyn's  departure. 

"  He'll  reach  home  Friday  morning,  won't 
he,  Ed?" 

"  M — huh  !  "  munching  an  olive.  "  Where 
are  the  crackers,  dear  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know — look  in  that  box  up  there," 
pointing  to  the  top  shelf.  Braine  looks  and 
finds  candles,  and  Helen  reaches  a  paper  bag 
on  the  left,  from  her  scat,  and  finds  eggs. 

"  Shall  I  call  Mollic?— she's  in  bed." 


I  5  8  JUG  GERNA  UT  : 

"  No.  Here's  the  bread,"  and  he  cuts  a 
slice  two  inches  thick  on  one  end  and  a  sliver 
on  the  other,  while  Helen  continues  the  con 
versation. 

"  You  told  him  to  tell  Gladys  about  the  lace 
the  last  thing,  didn't  you — else  he'll  forget 
it." 

"  M — huh!  "  stabbing  an  anchovy.  "  I  wish 
to  heaven  the  slave  would  keep  that  Rocque- 
fort  in  the  cellar,  except  when  we  are  eating 
it,"  shoving  the  cheese  under  a  pan. 

Helen  rises — "  Come  on  !  Bring  the  rest  in 
here,"  and  she  takes  the  light  in  one  hand, 
and  the  bottle  of  anchovies  in  the  other,  while 
Braine  is  about  to  follow  when  he  discovers 
the  cracker  box. 

"You've  been  sitting  on  those  crackers, 
Helen  Braine,"  scooping  up  a  handful  wrath- 
fully. 

"  Well,  you've  found  them  ;  come  on  ;  "  and 
they  go  into  the  sitting-room.  He  sits  by  the 
open  window,  while  she  fishes  out  olives  and 
anchovies  for  him,  alternately,  and  talks. 

After  a  time,  the  anchovies  are  on  the  table, 
and  the  olive  bottle  on  the  window  sill ;  the 
crackers  carpet  the  floor  immediately  around 
Braine's  chair,  and  Helen  is  kneeling  between 
his  knees. 

The  conversation    becomes   low  toned    and 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  159 

fitful.  They  like  it  better  at  those  times 
when  it  is  fitful.  Presently,  Helen  says  in  a 
dreamy  fashion  : 

"  We  will  name  the  children  '  Edgar,'  shan't 
we  ?  " 

She  doesn't  think  of  what  she  is  saying. 
She  is  in  a  misty  dream.  The  silence  that 
ensues  arouses  her.  Edgar  has  not  replied, 
and  is  looking  out  of  the  window.  Something 
in  his  silence  hurts  her,  humiliates  her.  She 
would  give  up  every  fond  hope  if  she  could 
recall  the  words. 

She  cannot  break  the  silence,  and  she  feels 
her  lip  quiver  after  a  moment,  when  he  does 
not  speak. 

Presently  he  throws  his  cigar  out  of  the 
window  and  looks  at  her.  There  is  a  peculiar, 
half-pained,  half-stern  look  in  his  face,  but 
there  is  an  expression  of  resignation  too — that 
hurts  her  worse  than  all. 

He  says  in  a  voice  which  he  tries  to  make 
calm  and  matter  of  fact,  but  which  reveals  his 
anxiety  painfully  : 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

This  seems  to  arouse  her,  and  for  a  moment 
she  feels  no  grief;  but  a  certain  pride  that  is  a 
little  resentful,  comes  over  her,  and  she  looks 
at  him  very  coolly  and  says : 

"  Nothing;   I  was  thinking  that  Gladys  when 


l6o  JUGGERNAUT: 


she  is  Mrs.  Grayson,  might  ask  us  to  stand 
sponsors  for  her — first,  and  she  likes  the  name 
of  Edgar,  you  know." 

There  is  a  little  feeling  of  recklessness  creep 
ing  about  her  atmosphere,  for  some  reason. 
The  look  of  relief  on  Braine's  face  hurtsr  as 
but  one  other  thing  has  ever  hurt  her — his 
preceding  look  of  anxiety. 

He  looks  out  of  the  window  as  though  sorry 
that  he  has  thrown  his  cigar  away.  After  a 
moment  he  says : 

"  Helen,  would  you  like  to  have  children?" 

She  still  feels  a  little  cold,  and  answers : 

"  I  should  like  children  well  enough,  though 
I  presume  that  there  may  be  more  agreeable 
things  to  do  in  the  world  than  to  train  them." 

He  looks  around  at  her  in  surprise,  and  sud 
denly  holds  out  his  hand.  He  says  : 

"  Come  here,  little  girl."  Gravity  and  self- 
reproach  are  in  his  tone.  She  is  suddenly 
overwhelmed  with  a  feeling  of  shame,  and 
throws  herself  on  her  knees  beside  him.  He 
smooths  her  hair  for  a  moment  without  speak 
ing,  and  then  says  in  the  one  voice  on  earth  : 

"  Dearest,  I  don't  want  you  to  interpret 
what  I  said,  or  looked,  a  moment  ago.  You 
startled  me  a  little,  and —  He  pauses  a 
moment,  then  goes  on  :  "  And  I  want  to  tell 
you  why.  I  have  had  one  dream  since  I  have 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  l6l 


known  you  and  loved  you.  I  have  dreamed  of 
you  as  my  wife,  my  very  dearer  self,  sur 
rounded  with  the  refinements  and  sweetnesses 
of  life  ;  loving  me,  thinking  with  me,  always 
near  me.  And  to  complete  the  dream  were 
our  children,  little  men  and  women  ;  a  part  of 
your  own  dear,  beautiful  self ;  their  little 
minds  and  faces  reflecting  you  ;  little  men  and 
women  that  should  enter  upon  life  with  the 
love  of  a  man  and  woman  who  worshipped 
them  for  each  other's  sake.  I  have  in 
imagination  seen  these  little  beings  develop 
mentally,  and  morally,  and  physically,  until  I 
beheld  the  little  woman,  the  model  of  my 
Helen,  and  the  little  man,  a  lover  of  his 
mother.  I  have  not  seemed  to  think  of  my 
self  and  these  children,  but  of  you  and  them. 
I  think  I  should  not  love  them  because  they 
were  mine,  but  because  they  were  yours.  I — " 

Braine  pauses  abruptly.  His  voice  has  been 
soft,  wooing,  monotonous.  Helen  is  sobbing 
softly.  After  a  moment  he  goes  on  : 

"  I  have  dreamed  all  this  over  and  over, 
dear.  Perhaps  it  will  not  be  a  vain  dream,  but 
— it  must  not  be  fulfilled  now." 

He  pauses  again,  and  draws  a  long  breath, 
that  is  a  half  weary  sigh. 

"  No,  not  now  ;  not  for  a  few  years.  We 
need  each  other  just  now,  with  nothing  to 


1 62  JUG  GERNA  UT: 


divide  our  love  or  thought  or  care  with.  We 
do  not  want  to  bring  beggars  into  the  world. 
They  would  not  be  quite  that,  now,  but  not 
much  better.  I  remember  my  own  youth," 
tightening  his  fingers  on  the  arm  of  his  chair 
and  speaking  a  little  harshly,  "  I  remember  my 
own  youth.  My  children  shall  never  have 
such  memories — nor  such  temptations — no, 
nor  such  guilt." 

Helen  lifts  her  head  and  stares  at  him.  He 
has  struck  a  strange  note  in  his  voice.  He 
continues: 

"  If  our  children  have  ambitions  that  are 
good  and  true,  I  pray  God  that  I  may  be  able 
to  allow  them  to  live,  yes  and  thrive.  There  is 
such  a  thing  as  moral  suicide.  I  do  not  want 
to  attend  the  moral  funeral  of  my  children, 
feeling  that  they  have  died  for  the  reason  that 
they  have  had  no  opportunity.  I  am  unfit 
now,  and  for  perhaps  years  to  come,  to  have 
any  hand  in  the  moral  charge  of  my  children. 
I  shall  have  no  time,  and  you —  '  looking 
hungrily  at  her — "  I  want  you.  I  cannot 
spare  you  just  now  even  to  my  children — your 
children,  our  children,"  each  time  with  a 
different,  tenderer  inflection  on  the  words. 

"Now,  do  you  understand  me,  dear?  Now, 
is  there  a  little  less  heartache  and  reproach  ?  " 

She  draws  his  face  down  until  their  lips  meet. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  163 


XVIII. 

THE  next  fc\v  years  of  Edgar  Braine's  life 
were  years  of  strenuous,  almost  turbulent, 
endeavor,  but  their  details  do  not  belong  to 
this  history.  Their  outline  only  concerns  us. 

When  the  consolidation  of  the  Central  road 
with  the  other  lines  north  and  south,  was 
effected,  Braine  had  every  reason  to  feel  as  he 
had  on  the  day  of  his  battle  with  Cale  Dodge. 
In  the  one  case,  as  in  the  other,  he  had  won  a 
passionately  coveted  victory  ;  in  the  one  case 
as  in  the  other,  it  was  unsatisfying. 

He  had  felt  almost  a  savage  joy  in  the  pro 
cess  of  conquering  Hildreth  and  his  party,  and 
teaching  them  to  recognize  him  as  the  master; 
but  when  the  conquest  wa*s  over,  it  seemed  a 
very  little  victory  after  all,  because  the  enemy 
was  so  contemptible. 

"  Hildreth  has  experience  and  cunning,"  he 
said,  "but  he  has  no  masterful  ability.  As  to 
the  rest — faugh  !  Why  should  I  care  to  match 


1 64  JUGGEKNA  UT : 

my  brains  against  their  poor  headpieces? 
One  little  loving  thought  of  Helen's  is  worth 
more  than  a  thousand  such  victories." 

Braine  valued  the  wealth  that  was  now 
securely  his,  not  for  any  vulgar  love  of  wealth, 
such  as  men  are  apt  to  feel  who  have  grown 
up  in  poverty  and  wrought  out  riches  for  them 
selves,  but  for  the  liberty  it  secured  to  him 
to  prosecute  his  other  purposes  unhampered 
by  any  bread-winning  necessity. 

He  had  enough  money  now,  in  possession 
and  in  certain  prospect,  to  satisfy  his  desires 
in  that  direction,  and  if  he  afterward  engaged 
in  great  financial  undertakings,  as  he  did,  it 
was  as  the  athlete  expends  his  strength,  not 
for  results,  but  for  the  joy  of  the  exercise. 

Braine's  mind  found  pleasure  in  forming  and 
directing  difficult  schemes,  and  his  self-love  was 
gratified  by  the  recognition  of  himself  as  the 
master  mind  among  the  strong  men  of  finance 
with  whom  he  allied  himself  in  these  schemes. 

There  was  another  reason  for  his  continued 
activity  in  affairs.  He  saw  in  such  activity 
vast  opportunities  to  impress  himself  upon  a 
rapidly  developing  country,  and  thus  to  for 
ward  his  political  ambition,  which  boldly 
grasped  at  the  highest  things,  just  as  in  finance 
he  never  suffered  the  magnitude  or  difficulty 
of  any  undertaking  to  appal  him. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  165 

"  We  shall  keep  the  cottage  for  our  resi 
dence,  dear,"  he  said  to  Helen  a  few  months 
after  the  events  already  related,  "  but  we 
must  live  mainly  in  New  York  now.  My 
business  enterprises  require  it.  You  shall 
have  such  quarters  as  you  want  there,  but  I 
should  like  to  keep  the  cottage  just  as  it  is, 
with  a  servant  always  in  charge.  It  will  be 
pleasant  for  us  now  and  then  to  come  back 
here  for  a  little  rest,  and  a  little  quiet  love- 
making.  Will  it  not  ?" 

And  so  it  was  arranged.  Braine  retained 
control  of  the  Enterprise,  and  even  actively 
directed  it,  wherever  he  might  be.  No  mat 
ter  how  absorbingly  engaged  he  might  become 
in  any  of  his  great  enterprises,  he  found  time 
each  day  to  communicate  by  telegraph  with 
the  newspaper  office  and  by  crisp,  brief  com 
mands  to  determine  the  character  of  every 
issue. 

He  still  retained  Thebes  as  his  legal  resi 
dence,  and  it  was  expected  that  he  would 
represent  the  Thebes  district  in  Congress,  but 
to  the  surprise  of  every  one,  he  chose  to  have 
himself  elected  to  the  State  Legislature 
instead. 

There  his  activity  was  ceaseless.  He  mas 
tered  every  detail  of  information  concerning 
the  State,  so  perfectly  that  he  could,  and 


1 66  JUGGERNA  UT: 


often  did,  instruct  members  from  distant  quar 
ters  concerning  affairs  in  their  own  districts, 
about  which  their  information  was  confidently 
inexact. 

He  carefully  avoided  accepting  the  leader 
ship  of  his  party,  which  might  have  been  his 
for  the  taking,  and  before  the  session  was  over 
he  was  said  to  have  won  the  personal  friend 
ship  of  every  man  in  the  Legislature. 

At  the  next  election  he  declined  to  be  a 
candidate,  and  put  up  Mose  Harbell  instead. 
The  nomination  created  general  surprise  at 
first,  and  a  general  laugh  when  surprise  and 
incredulity  had  subsided  ;  but  Braine  took  care 
that  his  "genial"  local  editor  should  be 
elected. 

He  made  himself  very  active  in  the  State 
General  Committee  of  his  party  also,  though 
he  was  not  a  member  of  that  body.  He  con 
tributed  largely  to  the  Campaign  fund,  and 
took  great  pains  to  keep  himself  well  informed 
as  to  the  state  of  the  canvass  in  every  dis 
trict  in  which  there  was  any  chance  of  success 
for  his  party.  Whenever  news  came  that  the 
chance  was  slender  in  any  district,  Braine 
opened  a  confidential  correspondence — usually 
conducted  by  Mose  Harbell — with  the  local 
political  leader  of  that  district,  and  it  was 
almost  uniformly  the  case  that  the  prospect  of 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  1 67 

success  in  the  district  rapidly  improved  from 
the  moment  Braine's  attention  was  directed  to 
it. 

The  result  of  the  election  was  a  cause  of 
general  astonishment.  The  opposing  party, 
which  had  long  been  in  the  ascendant,  had 
carried  the  State  ticket  by  about  its  customary 
majority,  but  the  Legislature  elected  held — for 
the  first  time  in  many  years — a  good  working 
majority  for  Braine's  party,  to  the  surprise  of 
everybody  in  the  State  except  Braine  himself. 
He  had  expected  precisely  that  result.  Per 
haps  his  anticipations  had  been  stimulated  by 
his  carefully  directed  efforts  to  secure  their  ful 
filment. 

The  fact  that  a  United  States  Senator  was 
to  be  chosen  by  this  Legislature  gave  peculiar 
interest  to  the  event.  The  senator  whose 
place  was  to  be  filled  had  expected  to  be 
re-elected  without  opposition.  He  had  made 
a  secure  bargain  for  re-election  with  the  lead 
ers  of  his  party.  But  his  party,  being  unex 
pectedly  in  the  minority,  was  of  course,  un 
able  to  fulfil  the  contract. 

The  stir  created  by  the  unforeseen  situation 
was  very  great.  The  several  prominent  men 
of  the  party  were  named  one  after  another  for 
the  high  place,  and  the  newspapers  by  their 
advocacy  of  local  "  favorite  sons  "  soon  made 


1 68  JUGGERNAUT: 

the  contest  between  them  a  very  heated 
one. 

Braine  wrote  with  extreme  courtesy  of  each 
of  them  in  his  newspaper,  favoring  none  in 
particular,  but  daily  pointing  out  the  neces 
sity  of  uniting  upon  some  man  who  could  com 
mand  the  hearty  approval  of  the  entire  party, 
and  emphasizing  the  apparent  impossibility  of 
such  a  union  in  behalf  of  any  of  those  who  had 
been  named. 

Mose  Harbell  held  his  peace,  perhaps  be 
cause  he  was  equally  impressed  with  the  ex 
ceeding  "  genialty  "  of  all  the  candidates. 

Braine  pleaded  strongly  for  harmony  in  the 
interest  of  the  party,  and  particularly  for  the 
selection  of  some  rising  man  of  ability,  whose 
age  had  not  deprived  him  of  the  energy  nec 
essary  to  make  his  ability  felt  at  Washing 
ton. 

When  the  Legislature  assembled  it  was  found 
that  an  extraordinarily  large  number  of  the 
members  on  the  majority  side  were  not 
positively  pledged  to  any  candidate  for  the 
caucus  nomination,  beyond  the  first  two  or 
three  ballots,  and  a  careful  canvass  showed  that 
on  the  first  ballot  at  least  six  candidates  would 
be  voted  for,  no  one  of  whom  would  receive 
more  than  one  fourth  of  the  total  vote. 

Mose  Harbell,  of  course,  knew  all  the  "gen- 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  169 

ial"men  about  him  in  the  Legislature  and  all 
of  them  knew  Mose — mainly  as  a  joke.  Mose 
entered  the  caucus,  pledged,  for  the  first  two 
ballots,  to  the  least  likely  candidate  on  the 
list.  He  made  his  first  speech  in  advocacy  of 
that  candidate's  election,  emphasizing  the  "  gen 
iality"  of  the  man,  and  telling  some  stories  of 
his  own  peculiar  manufacture  in  illustration  of 
it.  With  three  others  he  voted  for  that  man. 

The  first  ballot  in  the  caucus  showed  six  can 
didates  voted  for  and  no  election.  The  second 
ballot  showed  six  candidates  voted  for  and  no 
election. 

When  the  third  ballot  was  ordered,  Mose 
Harbell  untwisted  his  long  legs,  removed  his 
feet  from  the  desk  to  the  floor,  and  rose  in  his 
place  to  make  a  very  brief  speech. 

"  Mr.  Chairman,"  he  said,  "  it  is  evident  that 
we  cannot  nominate  any  of  the  gentlemen  for 
whom  we  have  been  voting.  Why  should  we 
not  nominate  the  man  who  best  represents  the 
intelligence  and  integrity  of  the  party,  the 
man  to  whose  earnest  devotion  in  the  late 
election  the  party  owes  its  opportunity  to 
elect  a  senator?  I,  for  one,  shall  vote  on  this 
ballot  for  Edgar  Braine!  " 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  style  of  this 
speech  was  wholly  unlike  the  usual  literary 
methods  of  Mose  Harbell.  Perhaps  that  was 


170  JUGGERNAUT: 


sufficiently  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  the 
slip  of  paper  from  which  Mose  had  committed 
it  to  memory,  was  in  the  handwriting  of 
— his  master. 

The  burst  of  applause  that  greeted  the 
speech,  seemed  to  indicate  that  a  large  propor 
tion  of  the  members  present  shared  Mose's 
view  of  the  situation,  and  the  third  ballot 
showed  three  candidates  voted  for,  with  Edgar 
Braine's  name  leading,  and  within  two  of  a 
majority. 

On  the  fourth  ballot,  Braine  was  nominated 
amid  a  roar  of  applause. 

It  had  all  been  done  precisely  as  the  editor 
of  the  Enterprise  had  planned  that  it  should 
be  done. 

That  night  Edgar  incidentally  mentioned 
to  Helen  that  she  was  to  be  the  wife  of  a 
United  States  Senator,  at  the  next  session  of 
Congress,  and  so  would  have  only  one  more 
winter  to  pass  in  New  York. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  \J\ 


XIX. 

[From  Helen's  Diary.] 

Washington,  iS — .  We  have  been  here  three 
weeks  to-day.  The  entire  time  has  been  occu 
pied  in  settling  and  furnishing  the  house.  In 
the  meantime  we  have  been  stopping  at  the 
Arlington.  We  are  finally  settled,  and  have 
been  in  the  house  now  for  a  week. 

It  all  seems  a  glorious  dream.  I  believe 
that  there  is  no  home  in  Washington  so  beau 
tiful  as  ours.  It  is  beyond  everything  I  have 
ever  dreamed  of. 

The  first  night  we  stayed  here,  I  reviewed 
all  our  married  life.  Saturday  night,  after  I 
went  to  bed,  I  lay  there  thinking  of  all  that 
has  come  and  gone  in  this  dear  time. 
First,  our  weeks  in  New  York,  where  a  new- 
life  opened  for  me.  Then,  our  return  to 
Thebes,  where  we  had  both  known  pov 
erty,  and  a  stern  necessity  for  management. 


172  JUGGERNAUT: 

There   has   since   been    no    such    stern    neces 
sity. 

After  our  first  return,  things  seemed  to  de 
velop  in  so  gradual  and  natural  a  manner, 
that  only  Saturday  night  as  I  lay  in  bed,  com 
paring  the  rose  draperies,  the  shaded  light,  the 
faint  perfume  and  luxurious  room,  with  a  little 
bedroom  far  away,  and  its  cretonne  curtains, 
its  ordinary  little  lamp,  its  moderate  comfort, 
I  felt  wonder  and  amazement,  and — what  ? 
Regret  ?  I  do  not  know.  Perhaps,  for  some 
one  shared  that  little  ordinary  room  with  me. 
Some  one  I  loved.  And  as  I  thought,  I  half 
turned,  to  find  myself  quite  alone — it  was  no 
longer  "  the  thing  "  to  share  my  room.  Yes, 
I  think  it  was  regret  that  I  felt. 

He  was  veiy  near — only  a  little  corridor  be 
tween,  but  perhaps  he  was  asleep,  and  if  he 
slept  I  could  not  put  my  hand  on  him  and  feel 
comfort  in  the  touch.  Yes,  I  think  it  was  regret. 

With  the  new  house,  a  new  custom  had  been 
inaugurated.  A  custom  of  division.  I  will 
admit  the  superiority  of  the  custom,  but  nots 
its  capacity  to  satisfy.  Edgar  had  said:  "I 
think  it  best,  dear,  that  my  apartment  should 
be  distinct  from  your  own,  for  the  sake  of 
your  comfort.  I  come  in  at  all  hours  of  the 
night,  and  must  necessarily  disturb  you,  and  it 
makes  me  feel  constantly  guilty." 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  173 

I  think  I  cannot  convey  the  hurt  that  this 
gave  me,  though  I  knew,  absolutely,  that  this 
suggestion  was  prompted  by  his  great  love  for 
me,  and  so  we  fell  to  speaking  of  "  your  room  " 
and  "  my  room." 

I  have  not  known  one  less  caress,  one  less 
expression  of  his  love,  for  this  being  so,  but — 
it  is  "  your  room  "  and  "  my  room  "  for  all  that. 
I  shall  become  accustomed  to  it,  and  prefer  it 
so — Gladys  says  I  will.  I  shall  become  used 
to  it  of  course.  It  is  not  quite  so  strange  to 
me  even  now,  but  that  Saturday  night  it  was 
very  new — and  very  sad  ;  I  felt  then  that  it 
would  never  be  anything  else.  It  is  hard  to 
become  used  to  speaking  of  things,  or  think 
ing  of  them  as  other  than  ours.  When  the 
material  things  of  our  lives  become  separate, 
it  seems  to  break  the  unity  of  the  intangible 
things — the  thoughts  that  are  mutual ;  the 
spontaneity  of  emotion,  affection.  Perhaps  it 
will  not  seem  so  after  a  time,  but  it  is  hard  to 
think  otherwise  now. 

For  some  reason,  I  have  a  dread  of  a  time 
when  I  shall  no  longer  find  the  new  way 
strange  and — sad.  I  think  of  the  nights  in 
the  cottage,  when  one  of  us  happened  to  be 
wakeful,  restless.  The  other  always  knew  it  in 
stinctively,  and  awoke.  Then,  there  were  few 
troubles  or  causes  of  wakefulness  that  a  touch 


JUGGERNAUT: 


of  the  hand,  or  a  tone  of  the  voice,  from  the 
other,  could  not  banish.  Then,  we  could  al 
ways  divine,  without  any  awkward  efforts  to 
discover,  if  the  one  was  happier  without  the 
other's  consideration — now  it  is  different.  I 
should  experience  almost  as  strange  a  sensation 
in  entering  his  room,  as  I  should  have  felt  be 
fore  we  were  married.  I  tried  it  last  night.  I 
heard  him  come  in  after  one.  I  sit  up  in  my 
room  if  he  is  late,  for  I  cannot  sleep  and  kno\v 
that  he  is  not  safe  ;  I  sit  in  my  own  room  that 
he  may  not  know  that  I  wait.  It  would  worry 
him,  did  he  know. 

The  other  night  he  opened  my  door  softly, 
thinking  me  asleep,  and  just  intending  to  look 
at  me,  and  instead  of  being  asleep,  I  was  sit 
ting  by  the  fire,  thinking  of  him.  He  seemed 
startled  to  find  the  room  lighted,  and  coming 
to  the  fire  and  taking  my  hands  in  his,  said 
in  a  tone  of  anxiety :  "  Why,  dearest  !  You 
slwuld  not  wait  for  me  like  this.  If  I  feel  that 
you  do,  I  shall  be  unable  to  attend  to  business 
properly  after  midnight,  for  thinking  of  you 
here,  awake,  waiting  wearily  for  me,  alone." 

He  said  it  with  so  much  of  anxiety  and  pain 
in  his  face  and  voice  that  it  suddenly  filled  me 
with  a  great  longing  to  sob  in  his  arms,  but  it 
was  too  late  to  sob  then — at  least  in  his  arms, 
and  he  looked  too  tired  and  worn. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  175 

Presently,  he  said  good  night,  and  i  sat  alone 
— he  left  me  that  I  might  go  at  once  to  sleep. 
I  decided  that  he  should  not  have  any  anxiety 
of  that  kind  again  ;  so  now  I  go  to  bed — and 
lie  awake  until  I  hear  him  come  up  the  stairs. 

He  always  opens  the  door,  and  I  can  always 
tell  by  the  light  from  the  hall,  whether  he  is 
very  weary,  or  would  like  to  talk  to  me.  He 
cannot  tell  from  the  door  whether  I  am  asleep 
or  not,  if  I  am  quiet.  If  he  looks  very  tired,  and 
as  though  he  had  started  for  his  room,  I  say 
nothing.  If  not — I  say,  "  I  am  awake,  dear 
est." 

He  is  very  anxious  to  have  me  work  into 
the  social  life  of  the  city.  I  understand  things 
far  better  than  I  did  a  few  years  ago,  when  we 
took  the  New  York  trip.  Far  differently  !  I 
know  that  society  in  Washington  means  busi 
ness.  I  am  incapable  of  understanding  the 
business,  but  I  can  learn  certain  means  by 
which  it  is  carried  on. 

I  have  been  impressed  more  and  more  every 
day  of  my  life  with  Edgar's  greatness  and  my 
own  inferiority.  And  every  day  of  my  life,  I 
have  taken  a  new  resolution  to  be  with  him  in 
his  greatness,  if  not  of  his  greatness. 

I  do  not  think  I  care  much  for  his  greatness, 
but  for  him  instead — and  he  and  greatness  are 
inseparable.  I  remember  involuntarily  at  times 


T  76  JUG  GERNA  UT: 

that  night  in  the  hotel  years  ago,  when  the 
feeling  came  over  me  that  we  had  come  to  a 
fork  in  the  road,  and  I  must  decide  whether  to 
go  alone,  or  with  him. 

The  time  is  past  when  I  must  make  such  a 
decision,  but  now  I  must  keep  up  with  him  in 
the  road  we  travel  together.  He  must  not 
have  to  wait  for  me — and  he  would  not  go  on 
without  me — and  I  know  that  he  could  not  live 
unless  he  went  on. 

He  has  planned  many  things  for  the  coming 
season  in  which  I  must  not  fail  him.  I  can 
assist  him  by  social  success.  The  season  is 
still  weeks  in  the  future.  Things  are  at  a 
standstill  just  now,  socially.  I  have  a  terrible 
fear  that  I  must  fail  him.  This  fear  con 
sumes  me,  agonizes  me.  I  dare  not  think  too 
much  about  such  a  possibility — until  I  have  to. 
I  may  not  have  to.  Just  now  I  am  torn  with 
anxiety. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  177 


XX. 

"COME  IN," — Helen  turns  and  faces  her 
dressing  room  door  as  Braine  enters. 

"  Not  abed  yet?  "  he  snys  with  a  smile,  tak 
ing  her  face  between  his  hands,  with  the  old, 
familiar  action. 

She  puts  her  hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  looks 
intently  into  his  eyes,  as  he  drops  on  his  knees 
by  the  side  of  her  chair.  Longing,  worship, 
anxiety,  hesitancy  are  in  her  face.  Braine 
smiles  at  her,  and  says  in  interrogation  of  her 
steady  scrutiny  : 

"  Yes,  what  is  it  ?  " 

Her  hands  slip  from  his  shoulders  to  her  lap, 
where  he  clasps  his  own  gently  over  them. 
She  smiles  at  him  a  little  wistfully  and  says 
nothing. 

Braine  is  the  lover  in  every  glance,  every 
gesture  and  attitude  at  these  moments  when 
they  two  are  alone.  Indeed,  his  love  for  her 
seems  to  have  gained  in  intensity. 


1 78  JUGGERNAUT: 

They  have  been  in  the  Washington  house 
for  many  weeks.  Braine  has  been  absorbingly 
occupied  with  schemes  of  business  and  politics 
every  moment,  save  one  like  this,  snatched 
now  and  then,  when  he  seems  to  forget  the 
whole  universe  in  remembering  this  beautiful 
woman. 

His  love  finds  small  expression  in  words, 
but  much  in  a  caress,  a  radiant  joy  of  counte 
nance  instead. 

After  a  long  study  of  the  face  of  the  woman 
gazing  so  steadily  at  the  fire  in  front  of  her,  he 
says,  anxiously,  with  a  caress  of  voice  and 
hand : 

"  You  are  not  well,  dearest  ?  You  look  a 
little  worn  to-night." 

She  slowly  withdraws  her  gaze  from  the 
coals,  and  turns  her  face  towards  him.  There 
is  an  abstraction  in  the  action.  She  says  in  a 
tone  that  indicates  that  her  thoughts  are  on 
something  else  : 

"  Not  well  ?  Oh  yes — yes,"  looking  back 
at  the  fire.  After  a  while  he  says,  still  watch 
ing  her  face  : 

"  You  are  the  most  beautiful  woman  I  have 
ever  seen.  It  is  not  in  the  regularity  of  your 
features,  but  in  the  soul  that  radiates  from  even 
the  tips  of  your  fingers,"  touching  the  white, 
passive  hands  reverently. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  179 

"  What  woman  so  made  for  honor  and  glory  ! 
In  a  little  year  or  two  !  " 

He  pauses,  then  continues  in  a  low,  passion 
ate  tone  :  <l  In  a  little  year  or  two  you  shall 
have  all  in  your  hands.  Women  shall  envy 
you  and  men  shall  reverence  you.  This  first 
season  shall  make  the  road  to  success  clear  and 
direct.  This  winter  will  decide  all.  If  it  were 
not  for  you,  I  should  be  helpless,  powerless, 
absolutely  without  belief  in  myself  or  the  fu 
ture.  My  ventures,  so  far,  have  been  gigantic  ; 
I  do  not  know  that  I  could  have  taken  one 
step  without  your  presence,  and  the  thought 
of  you  to  stimulate  me,  and  banish  all. fear  of 
failure.  My  schemes  for  the  future  arc  despe 
rate — and  I  shall  win." 

He  is  quivering  in  every  limb.  There  is  a 
fierce  energy  in  his  low  tones.  The  nervous 
fire  of  this  man's  nature  seldom  flames  save 
in  these  moments,  with  this  woman.  He  has 
spoken  the  last  words  looking  confidently  in 
her  face. 

She  listens  without  making  any  sign.  Her 
lips  are  pressed  tightly  together.  Braine  goes 
on  in  his  monologue — his  words  spoken  with  a 
clearness  of  utterance  which  has  made  him  re 
markable  in  public  speech,  and  has  an  awe 
some  impressiveness  about  it. 

"  It  will  be  you  who  will  have  done  it  all.     I 


1 8<D  JUGGERNA  UT : 


shall  look  at  you,  commanding  the  homage  of 
these  people,  and  think  great  thoughts.  I 
shall  look  at  you,  and  be  able  to  speak  them. 
You  will  be  ever  at  my  side,  thinking  with  me ; 
both  working  for  a  common  end. 

"  This  social  and  political  debut  means  all. 
It  is  by  our  mutual  desires — the  sympathy  of 
each  in  every  thought  of  the  other — our  co 
operation — that  we  shall  win  the  fight.  I 
thought  I  loved  you  years  ago,  that  you  were 
necessary  to  me.  It  was  true  ;  but  I  worship 
you  now,  and  without  you  all  would  be  over. 
I  am  appalled  when  I  think  of  what  this  year 
holds  for  me  to  accomplish  ;  it  is  only  the 
knowledge  that  you  are  by  me  that  makes  it 
possible.  I  have  never  needed  you — never 
can  need  you — as  I  do  now,  as  I  shall  in  those 
immediate  months  to  come.  I— 

Helen  turns  her  face  towards  him.  She 
checks  him  with  a  sudden,  imperative  gesture. 
Her  face  is  as  white  as  death.  For  a  moment 
she  does  not  speak.  Braine  grows  white,  too, 
at  the  expression  he  sees.  He  dares  not  break 
the  silence,  but  waits  for  her  to  do  it.  Pres 
ently  she  says,  in  a  low  voice,  with  apparent 
effort  : 

"  I — I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

She  stops  abruptly  for  a  moment,  then  be 
gins  again,  looking  steadily  in  his  face : 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  l8l 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you.  I — I  fear  it 
will  make  a  difference  ;  that  it  will  cause  you 
regret,  and  perhaps — if  you  meant  what  you 
have  just  said — failure.  I— 

She  stops  as  though  unable  to  continue. 
Braine  looks  at  her  in  amazement.  He  sees 
her  suffering,  and  involuntarily  lays  his  hand, 
with  a  sudden,  assuring  movement  over  hers. 

It  seems  to  arouse  her,  and  she  clasps  her 
fingers  around  his  with  a  despairing  little 
action,  half  imploringly.  She  goes  on  in  a 
hurried  voice,  tremulous  and  choked  now  and 
then  : 

"  I  have  tried  to  tell  you  for  a  long  time — a 
week.  I — I — when  I  remembered  and  thought 
of  all  that  it  would  mean  to  you — of  the  dis 
appointment,  just  now,  I  could  not  speak,  but 
—but— but— " 

She  stammers  with  emotion  and  excitement, 
and  pauses  to  recover  herself  an  instant.  She 
does  not  take  her  eyes  from  his  face.  It  can 
have  no  expression  that  she  does  not  see. 
She  says  convulsively,  with  a  pitiful  effort  at 
calm  and  control  : 

"I  beg  of  you  not  to  let  this  misfortune  at 
this  time  kill  your  love  for  me.  Oh,  I  have 
never  wanted  your  love  as  I  do  now.  I,  too, 
have  never  known  the  necessity  for  you  and 
your  help  as  I  do  now.  I — ' 


1 82  JUGGERNAUT: 


Braine  is  staring  at  her.  She  has  spoken  so 
rapidly  that  he  could  not  interrupt  her.  He 
does  not  know  what  to  expect.  He  tries  to 
calm  her  panic  by  caresses.  He  says : 

"Helen!  Helen  !" 

She  motions  him  to  be  quiet. 

"  If  you  reproach  me,  it  will  drive  me  mad. 
I  am  not  to  blame.  Oh,  I  beg  of  you  not  to 
remember  the  desire  I  expressed  long  ago,  and 
think  that  I  have — have  sacrificed  your  wishes 
— your  commands,  to  satisfy  myself.  I  am 
not  to  blame." 

Braine  takes  her  hands  firmly  between  his 
own.  She  is  beyond  self-control,  and  is  sob 
bing  hysterically,  but  never  looks  away  from 
his  face.  He  says  almost  sternly : 

"  Be  quiet,  Helen.  There  is  nothing  on 
God's  earth  that  you  could  be  guilty  of  that  I 
could  reproach  you  for.  Now,  be  perfectly 
calm  and  tell  me  about  it.  And  remember 
that  I  love  you." 

He  says  it  all  in  a  very  matter  of  fact 
tone,  and  it  has  an  immediate  effect  on  her. 
She  ceases  sobbing.  After  a  moment,  she 
says : 

"  You  remember  a  conversation  we  had 
years  ago,  at  the  cottage  in  Thebes  ?  You 
told  me  of  the  dearest  wish  of  your  heart — and 
said  it  must  not  be  fulfilled  then — " 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  183 

She  stops  speaking.  She  loses  no  expres 
sion  of  his  face.  He  says  quietly: 

"Yes:  well?" 

His  voice  tells  nothing,  but  her  hands  are  in 
his,  and  he  forgets  it  and  suddenly  tightens 
his  fingers.  She  says  slowly,  in  a  mechanical 
way : 

"  Yes." 

She  knows  that  he  has  understood.  He 
knows  by  her  reply  that  she  knows  it. 

He  puts  his  arms  about  her,  and  draws  her 
gently  to  him — but  she  has  seen  an  expression 
in  his  face  that  she  never  forgets. 


I  84  JUGGEKNA  UT: 


XXI. 

THE  time  has  passed  in  a  whirl.  Helen 
feels  constantly  dazed.  She  is  ill ;  at  times, 
terribly  ill.  Braine  does  not  know  it.  He  is 
with  her  almost  constantly.  His  tenderness  is 
extreme.  He  divines  and  gratifies  her  desires 
almost  before  she  knows  of  them  herself. 
Every  glance,  every  touch,  every  word  is  a 
caress,  and  a  love  message.  But  there  is  the 
never-to-be-forgotten  expression  of  rebellion 
and  resignation.  She  has  never  by  word  or 
action  alluded  to  it.  He  will  never  know  that 
she  has  seen  it — indeed,  he  is  not  conscious 
that  his  face  has  ever  worn  such  an  expression. 
He  knows  what  his  heart  felt  in  the  moment 
of  disappointment,  but  he  does  not  know  that 
his  emotion  was  expressed  in  his  face. 

He  tells  Helen  of  his  plans,  his  work,  for 
she  seems  to  have  a  mania  for  "  helping"  him. 
He  manufactures  writing  for  her  to  do,  when 
he  accidentally  discovers  that  it  delights  her 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  185 

to  do  it.  At  night,  when  he  comes  home  late, 
she  stands  in  her  door  as  he  ascends  the  stairs, 
draws  him  into  the  room,  and  makes  him  lie 
on  the  divan  and  tell  her  how  things  are  going. 

Since  the  first  time,  he  has  never  protested 
against  the  procedure,  though  he  feels  that 
she  is  often  worn  out.  He  would  never  have 
protested  but  for  her  sake,  and  she  seemed  so 
uncontrollably  grieved  on  the  one  occasion 
when  he  tried  to  reason  about  her  late  hours, 
that  he  has  thought  it  best  to  indulge  her. 

He  thinks  it  is  an  intense  interest  and  desire 
to.be  pushing  things  with  him  which  prompts 
her.  He  does  not  know  that  she  has  hours  of 
madness  over  the  thought  that  in  the  months 
to  come,  she  will  be  forced  out  of  his  life, 
because  of  his  hurry  and  her  necessity — to  be 
passive  in  it  all  ;  that  she  is  a  monomaniac  on 
the  subject;  that  she  is  afraid  of  the  responsi 
bility  of  his  failure ;  that  she  has  grown  to  be 
a  madwoman  on  the  subject  of  "  interest." 

She  has  but  one  thought :  that  she  must 
appear  interested  in  everything  concerning 
him,  in  order  to  keep  her  place  in  his  life.  He 
does  not  know  that  night  after  night,  hour 
after  hour,  as  she  sits  with  her  face  eager, 
questioning,  offering  suggestions  with  a  wo 
man's  quick  intelligence,  which  he  accepts  with 
readiness  and  gladness,  and  which  are  often 


I  86  JUGGERNA  UT: 


of  practical  service  to  him,  she  is  suffering 
tortures. 

He  plans  a  speech  and  tells  her,  as  she 
insists,  the  arguments  on  either  side,  and  the 
value  of  her  interpolations  amaze  him.  He  is 
a  logical  man  ;  she,  a  woman  of  intuitive  per 
ceptions  only.  The  combination  is  capable 
of  accomplishing  much. 

Braine  finds  himself  deferring  to  her  judg 
ment  in  the  smallest  thing.  He  is  amazed  at 
his  sudden  dependence  on  her.  She  has  de 
veloped  a  quality  which  would  never  have 
been  developed  under  other  circumstances, 
and  the  strain  is  terrible  in  its  effects  upon 
her.  She  is  frantic  with  the  necessity  she 
feels  for  effort  of  some  kind  in  his  behalf. 

She  works  like  a  demon  when  he  is  not  pres 
ent,  and  is  "  interested  "  to  the  verge  of 
insanity  when  he  is  near. 

He  knows  nothing  of  her  state,  mental  or 
physical.  He  has  no  conception  of  her  suffer 
ing.  He  is  constantly  solicitous  about  her 
health,  and  she  is  always  "  Well  ;  perfectly 
well  !  " 

Gladys  Grayson  is  now  in  a  whirl  of  social 
excitement.  She  brings  to  the  Braine  man 
sion  all  the  news  of  society's  doings.  Helen 
goes  out  only  in  her  carriage. 

Once,  Mr.  Everet  calls.     She  is  seized  with 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  187 

an  aversion  to  seeing  him,  and  sends  word 
that  she  is  engaged.  Many  other  people  call. 
She  seldom  sees  any  of  them.  Few  have 
other  than  a  vague  idea  of  the  reason.  They 
have  heard  from  Gladys  and  some  others,  of 
her  exquisite  charm  and  beauty,  but  forget 
about  her  in  the  attending  to  her  husband. 

Braine's  first  great  effort  in  the  Senate  was 
a  magnificent  one.  All  that  day  Helen 
walked  the  floor  of  her  room,  saying  to  her 
self:  "If  he  fails,  I  am  to  blame.  If  he  fails, 
I  am  to  blame." 

When  Braine  came  home  she  was  temporarily 
a  lunatic,  and  his  enthusiasm  of  success  was 
forgotten  in  an  agony  of  apprehension  for  her 
safety.  When  she  finally  understood  that  he 
had  suddenly  become  of  interest  to  thousands 
of  people,  she  accepted  the  triumph  almost 
passively,  the  strain  for  days  had  been  so 
great. 

She  now  thinks  constantly  of  the  time  she 
is  losing.  She  thinks  with  terror  of  being  left 
in  the  rush,  and  finally — not  of  Braine  stop 
ping  for  her,  but  of  his  rushing  on  without 
her. 

Braine  himself  has  become  sternly  calm— to 
all  but  his  wife,  the  only  person  who  under 
stands  him.  To  her  the  atmosphere  is  electric. 
She  has  constantly  in  her  ears  the  whirr  of  the 


1 88  JUGGERNAUT: 


wheels  of  the  political  machinery.  Braine  is 
lovingly  impatient  for  her  to  share  it  all,  to  be 
in  it  all,  and  says  with  an  eager  smile,  full  of 
tender  happiness  : 

"  When  this  is  over,  dearest,  and  I  can  have 
you  with  me  in  all  this  ! " 

And  she  smiles  back  as  eagerly  and  says  : 

"  Yes,  when  this  is  over  !"  And  sometimes 
her  hands  are  clasped  beneath  the  table  where 
he  sits  to  write.  She  thinks  constantly : 

"  I  must  keep  up.  I  must  impress  him  with 
my  strength.  I  must  make  him  feel  that  I  am 
to  be  depended  on  ;  I  must  lose  none  of  my 
power  to  charm  ;  for  fear  my  face  grow  un 
attractive,  I  must  cultivate  my  mind," — and 
her  face  is  the  face  of  a  seraph. 

Then  she  falls  to  planning  how  the  child  shall 
be  effaced  so  that  in  these  years  of  endeavor 
that  are  to  come,  Braine  may  find  nothing  to 
impede  him,  nothing  to  annoy  him.  If  her 
child  should  weary  him,  would  not  the  respon 
sibility  be  hers,  and  would  he  not  grow  to  look 
upon  her  with  aversion  ? 

She  no  longer  thinks  of  the  child  as  his,  or 
"ours,"  but  as  "  mine."  It  is  a  responsibility 
that  she  alone  must  bear.  He  must  never  find 
it  a  burden.  She  plans  constantly  how  she 
shall  accomplish  this,  and  yet  do  all  her  duty  to 
the  child.  She  thinks  she  will  not  love  it.  It 


A    y El  LED  RECORD.  189 

will  only  be  hers.  What  is  there  to  recom 
mend  it  ?  No,  she  will  not  love  it,  therefore 
she  must  be  over-careful  in  the  matter  of  duty 
towards  it.  She  will  instil  into  it  all  thjse 
traits  of  character  and  qualities  that  Braine 
loves  and  admires  most,  if  she  can.  She  will 
keep  it  from  its  father's  knowledge  as  much  as 
possible  ;  as  soon  as  practicable,  she  will  send 
it  away  to  school,  that  Edgar  may  forget  it  as 
nearly  as  may  be,  until  some  day,  perhaps, 
when  the  hurry  and  anxiety  are  past,  and  that 
time  has  come  when  he  can  pause,  she  will 
be  able  to  bring  the  child — man  or  woman, 
if  it  must  be  years  from  now — before  him,  and 
not  be  ashamed  of  her  work,  and  perhaps  it 
will  find  favor  in  his  eyes.  Perhaps  th  :  old 
feeling  will  come  back,  when  he  has  nothing 
else  to  think  about,  and  he  will  even  love 
the  child  a  little  because  it  is  hers.  She  has 
longed  so  to  love  it,  and  cannot — because  it  is 
only  hers. 

Braine  never  hears  a  complaint,  nor  sees  an 
expression  of  pain  or  suffering  on  her  face. 
He  knows  nothing  of  her  monstrous,  mor 
bid  imaginings,  and  cannot  set  things  right. 
He  only  says  eagerly  : 

"  When  it  is  over !  "  And  she  responds  in 
the  same  tone  : 

"  Yes,  when  it  is  over,"  and  thinks  : 


1 90  JUGGEKNA  UT: 

"  Then  I  must  catchup.  Then  I  must  make 
up  this  lost  time.  I  must  not  be  left  ;  I  must 
not  be  left  !  "  She  sobs  away  the  night  on  her 
knees. 

The  months  have  rushed  by.  The  time  is 
long  enough  for  the  suffering — very  short  for 
so  many  agonies  to  be  crowded  into.  Braine 
loves  her  as  he  has  never  loved  her  before. 
Sometimes  he  experiences  a  momentary  emo 
tion  of  gladness  and  desire  for  this  child— 
but  not  often. 

He  seldom  thinks  of  all  that  her  condition 
means ;  and  sometimes  almost  forgets  that 
anything  unaccustomed  is  or  will  be, — made 
forgetful  by  Helen's  beauty  and  charm  and 
brightness.  He  seldom  thinks  of  her  condition 
save  as  a  cause  that  has  had  the  effect  to  make 
him  love  her  more. 

And  so,  the  winter  wears  away — and  Helen 
with  it. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  19! 


XXII. 

BRAINE'S  carriage  stops  at  the  door,  and  he 
gets  out  and  runs  hurriedly  up  the  steps.  It 
is  three  o'clock,  and  at  a  quarter  past  he  has 
an  appointment,  tie  has  come  home  for 
important  papers  which  he  had  forgotten. 

As  he  enters  the  door,  Dobson  says  with 
some  little  excitement  in  his  tone  : 

"  I'm  glad  you've  come,  Mr.  Braine.     Mrs. — 

"Mrs.  Braine?"  Edgar  suddenly  takes  the 
words  out  of  his  mouth.  He  remembers  that 
he  did  not  see  Helen  in  the  morning,  and  that 
when  he  went  to  her  door,  her  maid  said  she 
was  sleeping. 

Dobson  replies  apologetically  and  with 
anxiety  : 

"  She  would  not  let  us  send  for  you— 

Braine  springs  up  the  stairs.  He  is  suddenly 
seized  with  a  nervous  trembling,  and  stands 
for  a  moment  in  the  hall  to  recover  himself. 
He  opens  Helen's  door.  She  lies  on  the  divan, 


1 92  JUGGERNA  UT: 


and  Susanne,  her  maid,  is  moving  quietly 
about  the  room,  adjusting  things. 

At  one  of  the  windows  a  strange  woman  sits 
reading  unconcernedly.  Helen  is  apparently 
asleep  ;  but  when  he  enters,  she  opens  her  eyes 
and  makes  a  quick  attempt  to  get  off  the 
divan. 

The  two  women  leave  the  room,  and  Helen 
holds  out  her  hand  with  a  smile,  and  says 
eagerly  : 

"  Well,  how  are  things  going  ?  " 

She  is  deathly  pale,  and  even  while  she 
speaks,  there  is  anguish  in  her  face,  though 
she  controls  her  voice  perfectly.  Even  in 
the  supreme  moment  she  will  try  to  be 
"  interested." 

Braine  is  surprised,  relieved.  He  does  not 
know  just  what  he  expected,  but  he  knows 
that  he  experiences  an  almost  terrible  relief. 
Helen  !  her  usual  lovely,  eager,  smiling  self. 
Suddenly  she  sways  a  little,  and  Braine  throws 
his  arms  about  her.  He  says  anxiously  : 

"You  are  ill.  Why  did  you  not  send  for 
me,  Helen  ?  " 

She  certainly  is  ill ;  so  ill  that  her  smile  is 
ghastly,  but  she  is  conscious  of  having  done 
her  duty,  and  of  having  appeared  "inter 
ested." 

She  sits  down  upon  the   divan,   and  Braine 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  193 


sits  beside  her  with  his  arms  about  her.  She 
replies  as  carelessly  as  the  situation  permits  : 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  not  ill — that  is,  nothing  special 
is  the  matter,  you  know.  There  is  no  need  to 
take  you  from  the  Senate." 

Braine  replies  almost  sternly  : 

"  If  you  have  even  a  headache  it  is  sufficient 
to  '  take  me  from  the  Senate.'  You  have  been 
suffering  all  day,  and  have  not  given  me  the 
dear  privilege  of  being  near  to  help  you  bear 
it.  It  hurts  me.  It  suggests  a  lack  of — of 
faith  in  my  sympathy — 

She  puts  her  hand  over  his  mouth.  Though 
her  words  do  not  indicate  it,  her  expression  is 
one  of  a  happy  sort  of  despair.  She  would  not 
ask  for  such  an  expression  of  love  as  this,  but 
it  is  very  dear,  very  grateful  to  her,  just  now. 
It  was  not  expected  ;  not  that  he  is  ever  other 
than  tender  and  loving,  but  she  finds  herself 
surprised  and  grateful  for  every  expression  of 
his  love.  She  does  not  know  why  she  no 
longer  expects  it,  or  why  it  is  a  surprise,  but  it 
is  so.  She  catches  her  breath  softly,  but  does 
not  indicate  her  emotion  in  any  other  way. 
She  has  an  idea  that  he  will  be  impressed  with 
her  weakness  and  his  responsibility  if  she 
shows  him  how  much  this  means  to  her.  She 
only  says  carelessly: 

"  Yes,  I  know,   but  there  was    nothing  the 


1 94  JUGGERNA  UT:  , 

matter,  you  see.  Mrs.  Case  is  here  because 
Susanne  thought  she  ought  to  have  a  few 
weeks  in  which  to  get  accustomed  to  the 
house — 

"  A    few   weeks — I   don't    know,    Helen — 
He  looks    anxious    and    doubtful.     She   says 
quickly : 

"  Yes,  yes,  Ed.  A — few  weeks — /  know," 
decisively  and  encouragingly.  She  has  not 
been  honest  with  him  as  to  the  time  of  her 
coming  peril.  She  has  had  one  wild  desire  to 
have  him  away,  out  of  town,  anywhere,  that 
he  may  not  be  worried  or  annoyed  by  her; 
that  the  approach  of  the  crisis  may  not  inter 
rupt  his  work. 

Her  tone  reassures  him,  and  he  remembers 
his  appointment,  and  that  he  will  be  late.  He 
says,  tenderly : 

"  I  will  be  home  soon,  dear.  I  have  an 
appointment  with  Grayson  now,  but  will  come 
home  as  soon  as  we  are  through." 

She  nods  cheerfully,  and  says  : 

"  All  right !  don't  neglect  anything  for  me, 
Ed — it  is  not  necessary.  Isn't  to-night  the 
affair  at  Dalget's?" 

"Yes,  but  I'm  not  going." 

She  lays  her  hand  on  his  arm  appealingly: 

"  Go,  Ed.     Please  go.     I  want  you  to.    I— 

Suddenly  she  stops.     Braine  thinks,  by  the 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  195 


expression  of  her  face  that  she  is  dying,  it  is 
so  drawn  and  old,  in  a  moment.  She  draws  a 
long,  quivering  sigh  of  agony.  Her  fingers 
clutch  his  arm  convulsively.  She  makes  no 
sound,  not  the  least  moan,  nothing  but  that 
sigh  that  goes  to  his  heart. 

Braine  watches  her,  holding  his  breath. 
She  has  slipped  to  her  knees,  and  is  clinging 
with  the  grip  of  a  strong  man  to  him.  He  is 
panic  stricken,  horrified,  and  cries  in  an  awful 
voice  : 

"  Helen — -Helen  !"  And  she  lies  limp  and 
white  in  his  arms.  He  is  quivering  in  every 
limb.  He  covers  her  moist  hand  with  kisses. 
There  are  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  he  cries  aloud 
with  a  groan  :  "  Great  God  !  " 

Helen  hears  him  and  opens  her  eyes.  She 
smiles  dreamily,  and  makes  a  weak  little  move 
ment  to  touch  his  face.  She  says  in  a  faint, 
comfortable  voice : 

"  It's  over  now,  Ed.     Go  to  Grayson." 

His  face  grows  harsh,  and  he  says  in  a  sud 
den  fury  : 

"  Damn  Grayson  !  " 

She  smiles.  There  is  a  certain  comfort  in 
that  ebullition.  She  lies  on  the  divan,  and 
Braine  wanders  around  the  room,  aimlessly. 
The  languor  she  feels  is  possessing  him  almost, 
lie  is  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  impending 


1 96  JUG  GERNA  UT  • 


disaster  and  his  utter  helplessness  in  face  of 
it. 

The  situation  seems  to  become  actual  to 
him  for  the  first  time.  He  feels  some  frantic 
desire  to  avert  this  horrible  something  that 
must  happen.  He  feels  suddenly  like  a  weak, 
helpless  child,  and  is  seized  with  a  desire  to 
throw  himself  at  her  feet,  and  weep  and  be 
comforted. 

In  another  moment,  he  feels  like  a  great, 
strong  man,  with  a  desire  to  throw  his  arms 
about  her,  and  prove  his  power  to  avert  every 
agony  of  hers.  The  next  moment  he  is  on  his 
knees  beside  her,  imploring  forgiveness  in  an 
incoherent,  frenzied  way,  for  this  guilt  that 
suddenly  oppresses  him  !  He  feels  like  a  crim 
inal,  and  keeps  saying  brokenly  : 

"  Oh  Helen,  forgive  me  !  forgive  me  !" 

She  is  half  asleep,  and  opens  her  eyes  to 
smile  at  him.  She  says,  dreamily  : 

"  I — I  never  loved  you  as  I  do  now.  If  it 
had  not  been  for  your  wretchedness,  I  could 
have  exulted  in  that  agony." 

Braine  covers  her  hands  with  kisses.  He 
dares  not  kiss  her  face.  She  looks  like  a  beau 
tiful  white  saint.  He  touches  her  hands  rever 
ently.  He  draws  the  {olds  of  her  gown  closer 
about  her. 

Presently  she  says: 


A   VEILED  RECORD. 


"Ask  Mrs.  Case  to  come  here.  You  go 
down-stairs  now,  if  you  won't  go  out.  I  will 
call  you  if  I  want  you." 

He  protests,  but  resistance  seems  to  excite 
her,  and  he  obeys.  He  does  not  go  down-stairs, 
however.  He  stays  in  the  corridor  just  outside 
her  door.  For  hours  he  walks  tirelessly  back 
and  forth.  Once  in  a  while  he  hears  that  ter 
rible  sigh  of  suffering,  and  he  leans  heavily 
against  the  wall.  The  sweat  springs  out  on 
his  forehead  in  great  drops.  His  suffering 
seems,  for  the  moment,  as  terrible  as  hers. 
Once  he  groans  aloud,  and  at  once  remembers 
that  she  has  not  made  the  faintest  moan,  and 
says  between  his  teeth  : 

"  Good  God  !    A  man  could  not  endure  that." 

The  nurse  comes  to  the  door  now  and  then, 
sometimes  calling  him  in,  and  then  he  kneels 
by  the  still,  white  woman,  who  gives  his  hands 
little  weak,  responsive  pressures,  and  smiles  at 
him.  He  remains  until  she  motions  him  away, 
imperatively. 

Night  has  settled.  The  lights  are  ablaze 
through  the  house.  Dobson  has  spoken  to 
him,  and  said  that  dinner  was  ready,  and  he 
has  not  heard  him.  He  walks  back  and  forth, 
back  and  forth,  in  the  corridor.  The  heavy 
sighs  sob  more  frequently  through  the  half 
open  door.  Once  Mrs.  Case  comes  and  tells 


198  JUGGERNAUT: 

him  to  send  for  the  physician,  and  he  gives  the 
order,  incoherently  saying : 

"  Dr.  Frame,  and  tell  him  to  bring  some 
more  with  him." 

At  this,  Mrs.  Case  smiles  quietly.  The 
time  passes  fitfully.  He  looks  at  his  watch 
once,  and  it  is  8:30,  and  all  is  quiet  in  Helen's 
room. 

In  what  seems  to  him  but  the  next  moment, 
he  hears  her  make  some  moaning  exclamation, 
and  a  slight  rustling  and  moving  about  occurs. 
The  agony  lasts  for  what  he  thinks  is  three 
quarters  of  an  hour,  but  when  he  looks  at  his 
watch  again,  it  is  only  8:  40. 

Helen's  dog  comes  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
and  looks  up,  and  Braine  leans  over  the  balus 
ters,  and  looks  down  at  it.  Once,  he  whispers 
down  to  it,  as  though  it  were  a  human  being : 

"It's  terrible,  isn't  it?"  and  walks  on, 
back  and  forth,  through  the  hall  again. 

The  physician  came  an  hour  ago.  Braine 
knows  that  the  nurse  has  been  to  her  dinner, 
and  feels  a  sudden  violent  disgust  and  aversion 
for  her  that  she  can  eat. 

Dr.  Frame  did  not  bring  "  some  more,"  but 
after  a  time  he  comes  into  the  dressing-room, 
where  Braine  now  is,  and  sends  for  a  colleague. 
Braine  turns  pale,  but  asks  no  questions,  as  he 
gives  the  order. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  199 

How  the  time  drags  !  He  pauses  now  and 
then  in  his  walk,  and  leans  weakly  against 
something.  He  suddenly  realizes  that  his 
brows  are  drawn,  and  his  forehead  scowled, 
and  his  hands  clenched,  and  his  teeth  set.  He 
is  made  conscious  of  it  by  hearing  himself 
groan  aloud,  and  then  he  relaxes  for  an  in 
stant  until  he  hears  a  sound  in  the  next  room, 
again,  and  he  finds  himself  experiencing  so 
sharp  an  agony  that  he  throws  himself  on  the 
divan  with  his  head  in  the  cushions  where  she 
has  lain. 

He  is  in  her  dressing-room  now  and  there  is 
an  odor  of  her  presence  in  all  the  atmosphere. 
Her  gown  lies  on  a  chair;  in  front  of  the  dress 
ing  table  lies  a  twisted  handkerchief  that  tells 
the  story  of  a  moment  of  agony.  He  looks 
about  at  these  things,  and  says  under  his 
breath  : 

"  Oh,  my  God  !  " 

The  other  physician  has  been  in  the  next 
room  for  a  long  time  now.  Braine  looks  at  his 
watch.  It  is  past  three.  He  tries  to  think  how 
long  this  has  lasted.  He  cannot  remember 
whether  it  was  to-day  or  yesterday  that  he 
came  in  here. 

He  stands  in  a  half-daze  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor,  trying  to  recollect  when.  Suddenly 
an  unearthly  shriek  comes  from  the  next  room. 


200  JUGGERNA  UT: 


He  stiffens  like  a  wooden  man.  He  puts  his 
hands  to  his  throat,  and  makes  a  peculiar  me 
tallic  sound. 

There  is  silence  in  the  next  room.  He 
stands  staring  at  the  closed  door.  He  thinks 
nothing.  In  a  moment  he  hears  another 
scream  that  causes  his  heart  to  give  one  wild 
bound,  and  then  to  seem  pulseless.  The  si 
lence  in  the  room  is  intense.  He  stares  fixedly 
at  the  door.  The  stillness  is  terrible.  Grad 
ually  he  becomes  impressed  that  the  woman — 
Helen,  his  wife,  is  dead. 

He  does  not  move.  His  mind  begins  to 
work.  He  sees  a  face  like" the  dawn,  a  prim 
rose  face,  with  eyes  as  clear  and  untroubled  as 
a  child's  ;  her  hair  a  sunny  glory  in  a  little 
dismal  room. 

He  feels  the  touch  of  a  cool,  soft  hand,  a 
touch  as  comfortable  and  calm  as  that  of  an 
angel's  wing.  Then  comes  to  him  the  mem 
ory  of  a  time  when  the  touch  of  that  hand 
thrilled  him  as  no  other  touch  on  earth  or  in 
heaven  could  do  ;  of  the  time  when  the  sweet, 
loving  girl  became  a  glowing  woman,  intoxicat 
ing  him,  making  him  drunk  with  joy :  and  he 
again  experiences  that  first  sensation  of  pro 
prietorship  and  possession. 

And  suddenly  there  appears  to  him  the  fig 
ure  of  a  woman  with  a  ghastly,  drawn  face,  a 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  2OI 

face  that  he  does  not  know,  with  staring  eyes 
that  gleam  glassily,  and  accuse.  He  feels  the 
touch  of  a  rigid  hand,  cold  and  unresponsive. 
His  eyes  seem  starting  from  his  head. 

The  door  opens,  and  one  of  the  physicians 
stands  looking  at  him  in  a  startled  way.  There 
is  something  frightful  in  this  man,  with 
clenched  hands,  the  veins  like  whip  cords  on 
his  neck  and  forehead,  and  his  ghastly  face. 

Braine  says  in  a  strange  voice: 

"Helen—" 

"  Lives ;  the  child  is  dead." 


2O2  JUGGERNAUT: 


XXIII. 

[From  Helen's  Diary.] 

In  the  mountains  near  Mauch  Chunk, 
August,  18 — .  This  is  the  first  time  for  months 
I  have  felt  like  writing.  We  have  been  here 
since  June.  After  my  illness  I  had  a  great 
longing  to  get  away,  away,  away  ;  anywhere 
out  of  the  excitement,  away  from  the  fur 
niture,  the  servants,  the  surroundings  that 
seemed  to  have  become  so  hateful  to  me  that  if 
I  looked  upon  them  I  must  shriek.  It  seemed  as 
though  I  should  never  be  strong  enough  to  go. 

Edgar  was  as  anxious  to  get  away  with  me 
as  I  was  to  go.  A  great  change  has  taken 
place  in  him.  He  has  ever  been  good  and 
thoughtful,  but  it  is  impossible  to  describe 
the  lengths  to  which  his  affection  drives  him 
now.  If  his  business  has  been  pressing,  these 
last  months  must  have  been  disastrous  to  him, 
for  he  has  hardly  left  my  side  for  an  hour. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  203 

There  is  a  new  expression  in  his  eyes  when  he 
looks  at  me.  He  seems  to  feel  as  if  he  were 
guilty  of  some  terrible  crime  against  me,  and 
to  be  ever  trying  to  expiate  it.  Sometimes 
this  amuses  me  a  little,  but  his  earnestness 
makes  me  almost  feel  unhappy  at  times. 

Once  in  a  while,  if  we  have  been  sitting 
quietly  alone,  he  will  look  at  me  silently  for  a 
time,  and  then  say  with  almost  a  groan  : 

"  Oh,  if  you  only  knew,  Helen  !  If  you  only 
knew  all  that  I  suffered  in  those  weeks  !  " 

I  was  very  ill  for  a  long  time.  He  seems 
hardly  to  realize  that  I  am  again  well  and  safe. 
I  would  never  dare  let  him  know  the  agony  of 
mind  as  well  as  body,  that  I  endured  so  long. 

I  feel  differently,  too,  about  some  things.  I 
think  that  whatever  regret  Edgar  felt  at  first, 
and  before  my  confinement,  he  suffered  a  keen 
disappointment  and  unhappiness  at  the  loss 
of  the  child.  He  has  made  but  one  allusion 
to  it,  but  he  betrayed  his  deep  feeling  then,  un 
consciously. 

It  is  strange  ;  but  after  all  my  longing  for 
the  child,  before  it  became  a  longing  likely  to 
be  gratified,  the  relief  that  I  experienced  when 
I  knew  that  I  had  none  is  indescribable. 

At  first  I  would  burst  out  sobbing  for  very 
joy  and  relief.  I  cannot  understand  my  feel 
ing.  I  sometimes  think  if  circumstances  had 


2O4  JUGGEKNA  UT: 


been  different,  and  Edgar  had  had  the  same 
emotions  in  regard  to  it  that  he  has  now,  per 
haps  I  should  have  felt  differently.  I  am  im 
pressed,  for  some  reason,  that  this  aversion  I 
have  is  abnormal.  But  it  is  so  strong  that  it 
has  decided  one  thing :  I  have  had  my  last 
child.  Nothing  on  earth  can  ever  bring  back 
the  old  feeling.  That  is  something  for  which 
women  in  my  position  have  no  time.  The 
horrible  feeling  of  lost  time  and  opportunity 
that  I  experienced  in  those  months  will  never 
be  forgotten.  I  will  never  live  through  it 
again.  If  I  ever  find  it  likely  to  become  a 
necessity,  I  will  kill  myself  at  the  outset,  with 
out  a  moment's  hesitation.  So  this  is  settled 
for  ever  and  ever. 

I  intimated  as  much  to  Edgar,  involuntarily, 
the  other  night,  and  I  think  he  felt  a  little 
hurt.  I  regretted  that  I  had  betrayed  the 
feeling  when  I  saw  that  it  made  him  un 
happy.  I  thought  he  would  feel  as  I  did 
about  it.  I  presume  he  does,  in  some  degree. 
I  made  some  remark  to  the  effect  that  people 
in  our  position  could  not  afford  to  lose  time  in 
that  way,  and  he  said : 

"  But,  dear,  what  would  become  of  the  peo 
ple  if  all  thought  so  ?  " . 

I  told  him  that  there  were  plenty  whose 
talents  lay  principally  in  that  direction,  and 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  205 

that  that  part  of  life's  work  should  be  appor 
tioned  to  them,  and  strictly  confined  to  the 
lesser  people. 

He  began  a  little  argument,  but  saw  that  it 
did  not  please  me,  and  changed  the  subject. 
But  he  said  something  that  impressed  me  with 
its  truth,  for  all  that. 

He  said  something  to  the  effect  that  the 
"  industry  "  was  already  confined  too  strictly 
to  "  lesser  people  ;  "  that  what  the  country 
needed  to  save  it  was  high-bred,  fine  and 
greater  fathers  and  mothers,  instead  of  lesser  ; 
that  if  there  was  ever  an  "  industry  "  that 
should  be  confined  to  the  superior  of  the  land, 
it  was  child-rearing.  Perhaps  this  is  so — I  felt 
so  too,  once,  and  determined  to  do  a  duty  in 
this  direction  that  would  be  a  loved  duty.  It 
is  different  now.  It  will  never  happen  again — 
and  I  live  through  it.  The  suffering  is  not 
what  I  flinch  from.  I'm  not  cowardly.  It  is 
not  that.  But  //  will  never  happen  again,  if 
there  is  a  means  on  earth  to  prevent  it,  even 
though  the  means  be  suicide. 

I  wonder  if  my  character  is  degenerating? 
Am  I  as  good  a  woman  as  I  was  when  I  mar 
ried  Edgar?  I  do  not  know.  I  only  know 
how  I  feel  now,  and  it  is  not  so  comfortable 
to  feel  in  that  way  as  to  feel  in  the  old  way. 
Am  I  deteriorating?  If  so,  what  is  the  cause? 


2O6  JUGGERNA  UT: 


XXIV. 

THE  Braines  have  back  been  in  Washington 
for  a  month.  Politics  recalled  Braine,  and 
Braine  recalled  Helen.  When  she  began  to 
think  of  returning  to  the  Washington  house 
where  she  had  endured  one  year  of  absolute 
wretchedness  as  an  initiation,  she  was  over 
whelmed  with  distaste  for  the  move,  but  she  re 
solved  to  keep  her  repugnance  to  herself,  and 
fight  the  feeling  down. 

She  wondered  once  if  she  had  rather  return 
to  the  cottage  in  Thebes,  but  dismissed 
the  idea  quickly  and  impatiently.  She  knew 
that  the  meagre,  provincial  life  would  be  in 
tolerable  to  her  now.  She  wanted  the  luxu 
ries  of  the  Washington  house,  but  shrank  from 
the  thought  of  having  to  go  thither  to  find 
them.  She  made  up  her  mind  to  the  inevi 
table,  however,  and  they  returned  as  late  as 
business  would  allow. 

The  night  of   her  return  when    she   first  en- 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  2O/ 

tered  the  house  she  felt  faint  and  weak  for 
a  moment,  as  a  host  of  wretched  memories 
arose,  connected  with  every  portion  of  the 
place.  But  she  brought  her  will  to  bear,  and 
Braine  did  not  notice  her  distress. 

He  seemed  affected  differently.  He  seemed 
almost  like  a  boy  in  his  enthusiasm  over  their 
return,  and  went  from  room  to  room,  showing 
her  certain  changes  he  had  made  surreptitiously 
during  the  summer  for  her  surprise. 

He  pauses  in  the  library,  and  suddenly  takes 
Helen  in  his  arms.  He  says  : 

"  I  cannot  analyze  the  feeling  that  I  experi 
ence  ;  the  peculiar  gladness  I  have  at  return 
ing  here  with  you  well  and  happy.  Though  I 
suffered  agony  in  sympathy  with  the  suffering 
you  endured  here,  the  experience  seems  to 
have  endeared  the  place  to  me.  You  will 
never  know  what  your  counsel  and  help  dur 
ing  those  months  meant  to  me.  Our  achieve 
ments  shall  now  begin  in  earnest.  Oh,  Helen, 
Helen,  the  joy  of  striving  and  accomplishing 
for  you  is  the  dearest  one  of  my  life.  To  see 
you  honored  and  admired  and  envied,  and  to 
know  it  comes  through  my  exertions  will  be 
my  supreme  happiness." 

"  Am  /  not  your  supreme  happiness  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  therefore  less  than  all  for  you 
would  mean  supreme  wretchedness  for  me." 


208  JUGGERNAUT: 


There  has  been  a  wistful  note  in  his  voice, 
and  he  is  tender  beyond  all  imagining.  They 
seem  very  near  to  each  other  this  night  of 
their  return,  and  this  new  marriage  somehow 
lessens  Helen's  feeling  of  disquietude,  and  re 
assures  her.  She  finds  herself  looking  forward 
with  a  certain  delight  and  satisfaction  to  this 
winter  when  she  will  establish  her  social  su 
premacy,  that  she  may  stand  beside  this  man 
who  is  just  becoming  supreme  in  another  field, 
and  seem  worthy  to  share  some  of  the  honors 
accorded  him. 

They  have  sat  below  by  the  library  fire,  far 
into  the  night.  They  have  discussed  the  situ 
ation.  They  have  planned  the  details  of  the 
campaign,  and  their  confidence  in  each  other, 
and  the  feeling  of  each  that  the  advancement 
of  the  other  is  in  his  or  her  hands,  has  already 
won  the  fight. 

The  servants  are  in  bed  ;  the  silence  of  the 
great  house  has  not  been  broken  for  hours, 
save  by  the  low,  earnest,  wooing  tones  of  the 
man  and  woman  in  the  soft  light  of  the  rare 
room.  The  woman  in  a  half-dream  of  delight, 
as  rosy  visions  of  the  future  are  conjured  up 
by  the  man  whose  voice  of  the  lover  always  in 
toxicates  her  senses  ;  a  dainty  woman,  a  regal 
woman,  a  woman  whose  least  motion  suggests 
the  patrician,  morally,  mentally,  physically  ;  a 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  2OO, 

woman  subtle  in  her  frankness  and  simplicity, 
dignified  in  her  naivete  ;  a  woman  perfectly 
matched  with  the  man.  And  he,  a  man  whose 
very  presence  suggests  power  and  grace  of  mind; 
a  temperament  wherein  reverence  predomi 
nates,  if  audacity  dominates  ;  a  man  who  must 
lend  good,  even  to  the  worst,  and  make  the 
worst  seem  not  tolerable,  but  acceptable.  And 
none  in  looking  on  him  can  decide  whether  his 
mind  is  responsible  for  his  charming  person,  or 
the  reverse. 

All  the  room  is  in  shadow  save  where  they 
two  sit,  and  as  he  takes  the  soft,  shaded  light 
in  his  hands,  and  conducts  the  woman  to  her 
door,  my  imagination  plays  a  sudden  trick; 
the  room  is  one  of  statelier  times,  and  one 
becomes  a  "  bold,  brave  knight,"  the  other 
one,  "  my  lady." 


2 1 0  JUG  GERNA  UT : 


XXV. 

"  Do  you  see  Bogart  and  Mrs.  Stevens  ?  " 
Gladys    Grayson    drops    the    question    into 
Helen's    ear   as   she    stands   listlessly  leaning 
against  the  conservatory  entrance. 

Everet  is  looking  away  for  the  moment. 
Gladys  has  come  up  with  Dalzel,  the  young 
congressman. 

Helen  looks  at  her  inquiringly: 
"  Bogart  and  Mrs.  Stevens  ?     Where  ?  " 
Mrs.  Grayson    gives    a    silvery    little    laugh, 
and  just  lifts  her  eyebrows. 

"  Everywhere,"  with  a  comprehensive  wave 
of  her  pretty  hand. 

Everet  and  Dalzel  are  talking  together. 
Helen  looks  a  little  bewildered,  and  Mrs.  Gray- 
son  looks  a  little  amused,  and  a  good  deal  con 
temptuous — or  shocked,  perhaps.  She  nods 
towards  the  conservatory,  and  at  the  moment 
a  man  and  woman  come  from  the  shadow  of  a 
palm,  towards  the  quartette,  engrossed  in  con- 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  2  I  I 

versation — at  least,  Bogart  is.  Mrs.  Stevens 
is  engrossed  in  looking  charming.  Gladys  con 
tinues  in  little  spasmodic  asides: 

'•  Every  one  in  the  room — "  they  are  nearer, 
and  she  lowers  her  voice,  "  is  talking  about  it. 
It  is  disgraceful." 

"  What  ?  ' 

"  Why,  the  very  apparent  affaire  between 
them." 

Helen  stares — then  looks  at  Mrs.  Stevens. 
Gladys  says  under  her  breath,  between  her 
teeth  : 

"  Don't  stare  at  her  in  that  way,  you  goose. 
She  will  come  over  here  in  a  minute,  and  ask 
if  the  enamel  on  her  neck  is  chipping." 

Helen  lowers  her  eyes.     Gladys  continues  : 

"  Things  are  so  very  apparent,  you  know." 

Mrs.  Stevens  is  coming  leisurely  toward 
them.  "  There  is  a  story  of  a  little  dinner." 
Mrs.  Stevens  is  here.  Gladys  bows  with  her 
accustomed  hauteur,  with  which  she  meets 
every  one  but  the  initiated,  and  without  the 
suspicion  of  discourtesy  in  her  manner,  turns 
away  on  Dalzel's  arm. 

Mrs.  Stevens  begins  to  talk  volubly  to  Helen 
and  Everet.  Helen  is  disconcerted.  She  has 
none  of  the  studied,  courteous  rudeness  that  is 
her  friend's  stock-in-trade,  with  which  to  carry 
off  a  thing  of  this  kind  gracefully.  She  replies 


2  I  2  JUGGERNA  UT: 


a  little  helplessly  to  Mrs.  Stevens,  and  moves 
away  as  quickly  as  she  can. 

Mrs.  Stevens  perceives  the  slight — it  amuses 
her  a  little.  Later,  when  she  is  alone  with 
Bogart,  she  mentions  it,  and  remarks  that 
these  ingdnues  try  one's  patience  terribly." 

Bogart  says  "  Yes  ;  "  and  thinks,  "  but  they 
are  delicious  to  teach." 

Everet  seldom  leaves  Helen's  side.  When 
he  is  not  with  her,  he  is  watching  her.  The 
house  is  too  crowded  for  comfort,  and  Helen 
has  not  had  enough  experience  yet  to  enjoy 
it.  She  always  feels  a  little  bewildered  after 
one  o'clock,  and  remarks  to  Everet  as  he  stands 
by  her  while  she  leans  back  in  a  chair,  wearily, 
that  she  always  feels  as  though  she  ought  to 
be  in  bed  after  eleven.  She  laughs,  a  sweet, 
excited  little  laugh  as  she  looks  up  at  him. 
He  wonders  how  long  so  charming  a  child  will 
retain  her  naivete  in  such  an  atmosphere. 

She  delights  him.  There  is  a  simplicity 
about  her  manner  and  expression  that  fasci 
nates  him — and  yet  she  is  a  polished  woman 
of  the  world.  She  is  surely  that,  but  the 
difference  between  herself  and  other  women 
of  the  world  is — that  she  is  not  a  worldly 
woman. 

Once,  during  the  evening,  Braine  is  near 
her,  and  says  with  suppressed  elation: 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  21$ 

"You  are  charming  to-night,  Helen.  I  have 
never  seen  you  more  beautiful.  Everet  is 
strongly  attracted." 

Helen  looks  up  quickly.  She  says  with  a 
little  deprecation  in  her  tone,  and  a  little 
entreaty  in  her  eyes  ; 

"  He  only  admires  me  as  he  does  other  nice 
looking  women,  Ed.  Indeed,  you  need  not 
mind.  I  will  keep  out  of  his  way,  if  you  don't 
like  it." 

Braine  listens  at  first  in  surprise,  then  bursts 
into  a  low,  happy  laugh.  He  covertly  presses 
her  hand,  and  says,  as  he  moves  away  to  make 
room  for  Everet,  who  is  coining  with  an  ice 
for  Helen  : 

"  I  don't  mind,  I  assure  you.  You  needn't 
take  pains  to  keep  out  of  his  way.  I  am  per 
fectly  satisfied  \vith  my  wife.  I  am  delighted 
that  this  man  is  so  interested  as  he  is — only  be 
cautious,  dear  ;  don't  let  it  be  too  obvious  to 
others — you  understand  ? 

Helen  does  not  understand,  but  Everet  is 
at  her  side,  and  she  has  to  turn  to  him,  and 
say  something,  or  listen  to  him. 

Her  mind  runs  on  Braine's  few  words,  and 
they  trouble  her.  While  she  answers  the 
questions  of  this  one  and  that,  and  makes 
trite,  witty,  serious,  politic,  or  straightforward 
little  speeches,  as  one  case  or  another  de- 


2  1 4  JUG  GERNA  UT: 


mands,  she  is  turning  over  Braine's  words  in 
her  mind. 

Perhaps  Everet  is  one  who  can  be  of  service 
to  Edgar,  and  he  thinks  it  as  well  for  her  to  be 
civil.  She  is  a  little  piqued  at  his  last  words 
— "  be  cautious,  don't  let  it  be  too  apparent 
to  others — "as  though  she  were  likely  to 
permit  an  aggression  on  Everet's  part  more 
quickly  in  private  than,  she  would  in  public. 
It  wounds  her  a  little  that  he  should  have  said 
so  thoughtless  a  thing.  It  would  be  terrible  if 
he  thought  so  Jwrrible  a  thing. 

As  she  sees  Braine  from  to  time  to  time  in 
the  crowd,  she  notices  that  the  worried, 
anxious  expression  she  has  noted  for  the  last 
week,  is  no  longer  on  his  face.  He  is  charm- 
ing  to-night.  His  personality  has  never  so 
strongly  impressed  her,  or  apparently  other 
people  either. 

Everet  notices  how  her  glance  follows 
Braine's  flexile  figure,  that  is  full  of  strength 
and  dignity,  and  once,  remarks  with  a  smile, 
and  a  little  amusement  in  his  tone  : 

"  You  are  a  great  admirer  of  your  husband  ?  " 

She  looks  up  at  him,  and  says  quite  in 
nocently, 

"  I  love  him." 

Everet's  smile  becomes  one  of  approval, 
almost  of  tenderness. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  21$ 

At  last  she  is  near  Braine  again,  and  says  a 
little  wistfully: 

"  May  we  not  go  home  soon  ?  " 

He  looks  at  the  flushed,  weary  face,  beau 
tiful  in  its  ennui  and  excitement,  and  says : 

"  At  once  if  you  wish  it,"  and  suddenly  the 
desire  possesses  him  to  have  her  in  the  carriage, 
alone,  quite  to  himself,  in  his  arms,  and  he 
seems  a  little  impatient  while  Everet  folds  her 
wrap  about  her,  and  is  asking  which  is  her 
"  clay." 

Helen  says  with  an  airy  little  informality 
that  she  has  no  day  for  her  friends — the  days 
are  theirs. 

As  they  step  out  into  the  cold  air,  Braine 
draws  Helen's  furs  still  closer  about  her  throat. 
There  is  a  tenderness  and  passion  in  his  action 
that  she  has  missed  these  last  weeks.  It  de 
lights  her,  and  causes  the  hot  blood  to  surge 
over  her  face  and  neck,  leaving  her  in  a 
quivering  little  ecstacy,  for  a  moment  after  she 
is  in  the  carriage. 

Braine,  standing  outside,  is  pushing  her  gown 
about  her,  and  pulling  the  rug  over  her  lap  as 
he  directs  the  coachman.  And  Helen  is  saying 
in  husky  little  trebles,  so  that  only  he  hears  : 

"  Ed.— Ed." 

Some  one  at  this  moment  runs  down  the 
steps  to  say  some  nearly  forgotten  thing  to 


2 1 6  JUGGERNA  UT  : 

Braine,  and  as  he  talks  he  is  acknowledging 
Helen's  little  appeals  by  covert  pressure  of  the 
hand  that  is  inside  the  coupe.  Finally  he 
gets  in,  and  closes  the  door. 

As  they  roll  away,  Braine  draws  her  into  his 
arms.  It  seems  to  both  that  they  have  been 
waiting  all  night  for  this  moment.  After  a 
time,  Braine  says : 

"  I  have  never  loved  you  more  than  at  this 
moment.  I  believe  until  to-night  I  have 
never  fully  realized  how  magnificent  you  are. 
You  are  not  where  you  belong.  You  are  not 
where  you  shall  be.  I  want  to  see  you  there," 
nodding  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  White 
House. 

Helen  does  not  understand,  but  she  is  glad. 

He  is  excited.  Every  fibre  of  his  being  is 
responsive.  He  holds  her  hand  in  his,  and 
kisses  it  repeatedly,  passionately.  She  laughs 
in  a  nervous,  hysterical  way,  and  leans  her 
head  against  him.  She  half  sobs: 

"  I  want  to  be  here,  Ed.  This  satisfies 
me." 

He  presses  her  to  him  and  answers  : 

"  I  am  not  satisfied  for  you.  A  little 
patience,  and  you  shall  have  all.  There  is 
nothing  that  we  cannot  accomplish  together. 
I  am  ambitious.  There  is  no  reason  why  I 
should  not  be.  Ambition  is  a  worthy  senti- 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  2  I/ 

ment.  Yes,  I  am  ambitious  for  myself,  but  it 
whets  my  appetite  for  the  great  things  of 
earth,  when  I  see  you  as  you  have  been  to 
night,  when  I  hold  you  as  I  do  now.  Some 
times  it  half  angers  me  when  I  see  you  lacking 
appreciation  of  yourself.  You  do  not  know 
your  own  value,  child  ;  other  people  know  it. 
You  could  be  a  power,  if  you  would.  You 
must.  I— 

He  leans  back  to  look  at  her.  He  has  im 
parted  something  of  his  enthusiasm  and  inten 
sity  to  her,  and  her  fingers  play  nervously 
with  the  cords  of  her  cloak.  Her  eyes  gleam 
in  the  dusk. 

Braine  notes  every  little  detail  about  her — 
how  the  flash  from  an  electric  light  makes  the 
tiara  in  her  hair  sparkle  ;  how  white  her  hands 
look  as  they  lie  buried  in  the  fur  of  the  rug; 
how  the  little  tendrils  of  hair  cling  to  her  neck. 
He  thinks  vehemently  :  "  How  I  love  this 
woman  !  How  I  love  this  woman  !  " 

They  stop  in  front  of  the  house,  and  they 
go  silently  up  the  steps.  Both  are  thinking. 
Woolet  opens  the  door  for  them,  making  a  vain 
endeavor  to  appear  dignified  and  wide  awake. 
But  it  is  sufficiently  evident  that  he  has  been 
asleep  in  the  hall. 

Helen  goes  directly  up  the  stairs,  and 
Braine  passes  on  to  the  library,  saying: 


2 1 8  JUG  GERNA  UT: 

"  I  have  a  little  work  to  do — I  will  be  up  in 
five  minutes — wait  for  me." 

Susanne  is  asleep  with  her  head  on  the  dress 
ing-table.  Helen  says  kindly,  as  the  little, 
plump  thing  makes  an  effort  to  wake  up  : 

"  Go  to  bed,  child.  I  will  look  after  myself 
to-night." 

Susanne  goes,  and  Helen  stands  a  moment, 
looking  at  her  reflection  in  the  glass.  She 
smiles  at  it.  She  says  half  aloud  : 

"Yes,  I  am  very  beautiful.  I  love  beauti 
ful  things" — with  a  nod  at  herself.  She  un 
fastens  her  gown,  and  it  slips  to  the  floor ;  she 
steps  out  of  it.  She  takes  the  pins  from  her 
hair  and  it  falls  over  her  shoulders  with  a  little 
swish.  Braine  taps  at  the  door.  She  calls  : 
"  One  moment,  Ed." 

She  throws  about  her  the  negligee  on  the 
chair  and  calls,  "Come  in,"  adding,  "You 
didn't  have  much  to  do,"  as  Braine  enters  the 
room. 

"  If  I  did,  I  didn't  do  it,"  with  a  little  laugh. 
He  throws  himself  into  a  chair  by  her  dressing- 
room  fire.  After  a  moment  he  says  : 

"  Come  here,  dear." 

Helen  is  brushing  her  hair  at  the  mirror. 
She  puts  down  the  brush  and  goes  over  to 
him.  He  pulls  her  down  beside  him.  For  a 
moment  they  sit  silently,  cheek  to  cheek,  look- 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  2ig 

ing  into  the  fire  together.  Finally,  Braine 
says  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  dear,  about — about 
a  business  matter."  He  pauses. 

Helen  smiles  a  little  mistily.  She  does  not 
know  anything  about  busmess  matters,  but 
she  will  like  to  hear  about  anything  if  he  tells 
it.  She  says  : 

"  Well  ?  " 

Braine  hesitates  a  moment,  and  then  says, 
with  a  little  effort  to  appear  quite  natural : 

"  I  don't  want  to  trouble  you  with  details, 
dear,  but  I  must,  a  little.  I  want  you  to  help 
me  in  a  difficult  task — to  help  us,  for  this 
means  everything  to  both.  You  believe  in 
your  husband,  do  you  not,  Helen  ?  " 

"  I  will  not  answer  that  question,  Ed.  You 
can  answer  it  yourself."  She  caresses  his  head 
gently,  and  waits  for  him  to  go  on. 

"  Well,  I  meant  the  question  seriously 
enough.  You  know  I  can  do  much,  but  I 
wonder  if  you  believe  me  capable  of  all  I  can 
do  ?  You  know  how  the  newspapers  talk  of 
me  as  '  the  wizard,'  because  I  have  achieved 
very  quickly  things  that  most  men  find  it 
difficult  to  achieve  at  all.  They  believe 
in  me,  but  they  would  think  me  insane  if  I 
were  to  tell  them  of  the  plans  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  of.  I  wonder  if  your  belief  in  me  is 


22O  JUGGERNAUT: 


enough  firmer  than  theirs,  to  let  you  share 
my  ideas  without  distrusting  my  ability  to 
make  them  facts?" 

He  receives  sufficient  answer  in  a  caress 
which  has  tears  of  joy  in  it.  He  muses  a 
while,  and  then  takes  up  his  discourse  at  a 
different  point. 

"  It  is  rather  a  dramatic  story,  I  suppose,  as 
ordinary  people  look  at  things.  I  was  rolling 
barrels  on  the  levee  at  Thebes  not  many  years 
ago.  I  got  my  fingers  in  on  the  Enterprise 
with  my  mind  set  on  making  myself  felt,  and 
I  made  the  Enterprise  a  power.  I  was  not 
easily  appalled,  as  I  showed  when  I  set  out  to 
make  the  noblest  woman  in  the  world  my 
wife,  to  take,  as  all  my  own,  the  one  perfect 
example  of  what  God  meant  when  he  created 
woman  "  Here  a  long  pause  occurs  in  the 
monologue. 

"  When  Hildreth  thought  to  make  me  a 
serviceable  tool  for  him  and  his  millionaire 
partners  to  work  with,  I  whipped  out  the  com 
bination  in  six  or  eight  weeks,  and  I  taught 
them  once  for  all  who  was  master  by  virtue  of 
superior  intellect,  when  they  and  I  had  occa 
sion  to  work  together  in  any  matter.  I  was 
poor  and  needed  wealth  for  the  sake  of  the 
opportunity  it  gives.  I  set  to  work  to  achieve 
wealth,  and  in  three  months  my  name  was 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  221 


good  enough  to  stand  alone  in  any  bank  from 
New  York  to  San  Francisco.  I  planned  the 
systematizing  of  the  railroad  lines  centering  at 
Thebes,  and  created  almost  a  new  West  by 
the  operation,  enriching  a  whole  people.  I 
decided  to  be  a  Senator,  with  my  party  in  an 
apparently  hopeless  minority,  and  I  achieved 
the  result  with  as  much  precision  as  if  it  had 
been  merely  the  drawing  of  a  straight  line 
with  a  ruler.  I  have  not  been  taking  wine, 
dear,  and  I  am  not  running  over  these  things 
to  boast  of  them.  I  care  nothing  whatever 
for  what  is  behind  me.  I  only  say  all  this  to 
show  you  what  I  mean  when  I  say  that  from 
the  earliest  time  I  can  remember,  I  have  never 
in  my  life  made  up  my  mind  to  accomplish 
anything,  without  succeeding  in  the  attempt. 
I  want  you  to  bear  that  in  mind  when  I  tell 
you  that  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  be — 
well,  to  place  you  in  the  highest  position  pos 
sible  to  any  American  woman.  With  your 
help  I  can  accomplish  that,  as  I  have  accom 
plished  everything  else." 

"  Oh,  Ed,  you  frighten  me.  I  am  content 
as  we  are.  Your  ambition  is  eating  you  up. 
For  myself,  life  has  brought  me — no,  it  is  you 
that  have  brought  me  all,  and  more  than  all. 
I  only  want — this  !  "  clasping  her  arms  about 
him,  and  pressing  him  close.  "I  would  give 


222  JUG  GERN~A  UT: 


up  everything  for  you,  Ed,  and  it  is  for  your 
sake  that  I  want  you  to  give  up  all  further  am 
bitions  for  me.  You  do  not  care  for  these 
things,  dear,  except  for  my  sake,  and  I  care 
for  nothing  except  to  have  you  love  me.  You 
are  great  and  good.  You  do  not  need  honors. 
Let  us  let  them  alone." 

"  I  cannot,  Helen.  I  might  but  for  you.  I 
do  not  know  ;  it  is  my  nature  to  go  forward ; 
I  cannot  stand  still :  but  I  might  if  it  were 
not  for  you.  How  can  I  rest  when  I  remem 
ber  that  there  is  one  woman  in  Washington 
whose  place  is  so  exalted  that  she  is  held  ex 
empt  from  the  duty  of  returning  calls,  and 
that  woman  is  not  my  Helen  !  I  tell  you  I 
must  work  out  the  plans  I  have  formed,  and  I 
need  your  help.  Now  let  me  explain.  I'll 
spare  you  every  detail  I  can,  and  keep  to  the 
bare  outline." 

"  Go  on,"  she  says,  "  I  like  you  to  tell  me 
stories,  Ed,  and  you  haven't  told  me  many  of 
late.  Your  business  has  taken  you  away  so 
much,  till  I  have  almost  come  to  hate  busi 
ness." 

Braine  feels  a  little  sting  in  this  reminder, 
which  Helen  has  not  meant  to  put  there,  but 
he  is  too  intent  upon  his  purpose  to  pause  for 
its  removal. 

"  I  have  worked  already  at  this  thing,  dear, 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  22 3 

night  and  day  for  months.  I  have  made  alli 
ances  in  all  directions,  in  every  quarter  of  the 
country.  I  have  set  every  force  at  work  which 
can  be  in  any  way  controlled.  The  next  step 
is  to  produce  a  break  here.  This  administra 
tion  is  the  obstacle  in  my  way,  and  I  mean  to 
break  it  down  !  " 

"  Oh,  Edgar  !  "  exclaims  Helen,  less  in  pro 
test  against  a  proposal  which  startles  and 
shocks  her  a  little,  than  in  admiration  of  the 
superb  audacity  of  the  man  who  sits  holding 
her  hand  while  he  announces  a  purpose  seem 
ingly  so  stupendous.  Braine  continues,  scarcely 
noticing  the  interruption  : 

"  Yes,  and  I  have  that  practically  arranged, 
too,  except  for  one  thing.  I  must  produce  the 
break  by  getting  the  coming  presidential  ap 
pointments — the  most  important  of  the  whole 
term,  in  some  respects — rejected  by  the  Senate. 
There  are  three  men  in  the  Senate  who  must 
make  the  fight  their  own  in  order  to  make  the 
break  in  the  party  irreparable,  except  by  the 
retirement  of  the  President  from  the  contest 
for  nomination  at  the  end  of  the  term.  These 
men  are  privately  interested  in  the  whiskey 
tax  bill,  which  is  certainly  lost  in  committee 
unless  I  force  its  passage.  I've  been  working 
at  that  for  two  months,  and  have  not  yet  suc 
ceeded.  I  want  your  help  in  that." 


224  JUG  GERNA  UT: 


"  But,  Edgar,  you  know  I  don't  understand 
politics,  or — " 

"  It's  not  necessary  that  you  should. 
Heaven  forbid  that  you  ever  shall !  The  only 
obstacle  is  Everet.  He  is  chairman  of  the 
committee  that  has  the  bill  in  charge.  He  can 
report  it  favorably,  and  if  I  could  induce  him 
to  do  it,  I  could  manage  the  rest.  But  I  can 
not.  I  have  exhausted  my  resources  of  argu 
ment  and  persuasion,  and  he  will  not  yield.  It 
has  worried  me  more  than  I  like  you  to  know, 
dear.  I  have  said  nothing,  because  I  didn't 
want  to  trouble  you.  But  you  can  help  me 
now,  if  you  will." 

Helen  looks  up,  elated  : 

"  I  can  help  ?  I'm  glad  of  that,  Ed,  but  it 
seems  funny  to  think  of  my  helping  in  business, 
doesn't  it  ?  "  with  a  little  laugh. 

Braine  is  so  intent  on  the  matter  that  he 
only  replies  by  a  pat  of  the  hand.  He  con 
tinues  : 

"  Yes,  you  can  help.  I  will  tell  you  what  I 
want  you  to  do.  Everet  is  fascinated  with 
you.  He  hardly  left  your  side  to-night,  and 
when  he  did,  his  eyes  followed  you.  Everet  is 
the  only  one  whose  support  I  must  have  now. 
You  must  get  this  for  me.  You  can  do  it — 

"  Why,  Ed  ?—  '  She  stares  at  him  inquir 
ingly.  "  What  could  I  do,  dear?  " 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  22 5 


For  a  moment  Edgar  looks  annoyed.  This 
L  becoming  a  little  awkward — for  a  husband. 
He  starts  to  speak,  then  hesitates  for  a  mo 
ment,  then  begins  • 

"  Your  woman's  cleverness  should  prompt 
you,  Helen.  You  understand  little  politic  de 
vices  to  a  considerable  extent ;  it  is  only  nec 
essary  that  you  enlarge  upon  it  in  a  smaller  field. 
Evcret  will  call,  of  course.  There  is — no  rea 
son  why  he  should— "she  is  looking  at  him 
— "  not  call  as  often  as  he  chooses,  nor  why  he 
should  not  choose  to  call  often — nor  why  you 
— should  not  use  your  influence  to  our  advan 
tage — to  the  end  of  gaining  his  support  for 
me.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

He  ceases.  There  is  absolute  silence. 
Helen  is  still  looking  at  him.  It  is  not  com 
fortable  for  one's  wife  to  look  at  one  under  all 
circumstances.  She  speaks  hesitatingly  : 

"  You — you  mean  for  me  to— to  try  and  at 
tract  Everet — in  order  to  cajole  him  into  doing 
your  will  in  this  ?  " 

There  is  bewilderment,  disgust,  astonishment 
expressed  in  her  voice.  She  looks  somewhat 
scandalized.  Braine  laughs  a  little  uneas- 
ily: 

"  Yes,  that— is  about  it." 

She  remains  on  her  knees,  looking  at  him 
for  a  moment — then  slowly  rises.  There  is  in- 


226  JUG  GERNA  UT: 


dignation  expressed  in  every  movement  of  her 
body.  She  looks  hurt,  humiliated,  insulted. 
She  says  excitedly : 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  saying. 
This  miserable  business — -whatever  it  is — has 
gone  to  your  head.  I — I — I— 

She  stammers  in  excitement.  Braine  rises 
and  speaks  entreatingly  : 

"  No,  I  know  what  I  am  asking  of  you.  It 
is  not  pleasant,  to  be  sure.  It  hurts  me  worse 
than  it  can  you,  but,  Helen — "  with  a  desper 
ate  impulse — "  Helen,  this  has£0/  to  be  done. 
I  must  have  Everet's  support.  Things  have 
come  to  a  desperate  pass.  There  is  no  other 
way.  When  I  saw  you  controlling  his  every 
thought  to-night,  it  seemed  like  a  sudden  in 
terposition  of  Providence.  All  the  care  and 
worry,  that  have  gripped  me  like  a  dragon 
those  late  weeks,  seemed  to  slip  from  me.  I 
knew  if  you  would  do  this,  I  was  secure.  I 
appeal  to  you,  child.  If  you  love  me,  you 
must  consent  to  aid  me  in  this.  It  \syour  hap- 
piness,  your  advancement  as  well  as  my  own, 
that  I  ask  you  to  achieve — 

"  I  am  satisfied.     I  don't  want  to  advance." 

Her  eyes  flash  ominously. 

"  Helen — Helen —  Braine  holds  out  his 
hands  to  her,  "  you  don't  understand  all  you 
say.  You  do  want  it.  If  you  were  deprived 


A    VEILED  RECORD. 


of  all  this  luxury  and  position,  it  would  ruin 
your  happiness  —  and  yet,  a  few  years  ago  you 
said  as  you  do  now  —  '  I  don't  want  it.'  Could 
you  live  without  it  ?  " 

"  No.  Not  now.  But  I  could  if  I  had  never 
known  it  —  I  — 

"  You  had  to  know  it.  You  should.  Of  all 
women  in  the  world  you  are  the  one  best  fit 
ted  for  command,  and  for  all  that  I  am  strain 
ing  every  nerve  to  gain  for  you.  I  do  not 
sleep  an  hour,  uninterruptedly.  I  wake,  to 
plan  and  contrive  after  this  end.  I  eat  me 
chanically.  I  speak  so,  except  under  circum 
stances  when  my  words  will  count.  I  make 
no  acquaintance,  no  friend  save  that  I  may  turn 
him  to  account.  I  deny  myself  honest  affection 
in  every  association,  that  sentiment  may  never 
interfere  at  a  critical  hour  —  all  this  that  I  may 
see  you  where  you  deserve  to  be.  I  ask  but 
one  little  thing  of  you.  I  implore  it.  This 
one  effort  on  your  part,  and  we  have  gained 
all.  Helen—" 

He  is  quivering  with  excitement.  His  eyes 
burn  like  coals  of  fire,  and  grow  dark  and  scin 
tillating. 

The  woman  opposite  him  stands  like  a  statue. 
There  is  not  a  vestige  of  color  in  her  face. 
She  turns  slowly,  and  motions  him  from  the 
room  without  a  word. 


228  JUGGERNAUT: 


XXVI. 

[From  Helen's  Diary.] 

February,  — .  Breakfasted  this  morning  in  my 
own  room.  Could  not  entertain  the  thought  of 
ever  seeing  or  speaking  to  Edgar  again. 

I  looked  haggard  when  I  got  up.  I  did  not 
sleep  an  hour  all  night.  While  I  was  making 
a  sorry  attempt  to  eat  some  "breakfast,  and 
strengthening  my  determination  never  to 
speak  to  Edgar  again,  Woolet  brought  up  a 
note,  saying  that  Edgar  told  him  to  give  it  to 
me  as  soon  as  I  was  up. 

I  was  like  adamant  and  determined  not  to 
look  at  it.  I  should  have  sent  it  down  to  him 
immediately,  but  for  the  curiosity  such  a  thing 
would  have  aroused  among  the  servants. 

As  Woolet  was  going,  he  said  : 

"  Mr.  Braine  said  Madame  would  please  for 
ward  all  his  mail  that  came  to-day." 

I  was  thunderstruck.     Forward  his  mail !     I 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  22g 

snatched  up  the  note,  all  my  determination 
gone. 

It  was  but  a  few  lines,  saying  that  he  took 
the  9:10  train  for  New  York,  on  business,  and 
would  return  on  Friday — this  is  Tuesday. 

I  felt  like  a  baby.  I  sent  Susanne  away,  and 
burst  out  crying.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I 
must  see  him,  and  soften  the  situation  a  little. 

I  could  never  have  consented  to  this  thing 
that  he  proposed,  but  it  does  not  seem  terrible 
enough  to  justify  such  severity — this  morning. 

It  seems  to  me  that  I  cannot  endure  the 
time  until  Friday — but  when  he  returns  I  shall 
treat  him  with  proper  dignity,  of  course.  It  is 
my  diity  to  make  him  feel  that  I  judge  his  con 
duct  severely.  And  yet,  I  will  be  forgiving 
and  affectionate — to  an  extent.  Only  to  an 
extent.  (This  will  be  very  hard  for  me.) 

I  felt  so  wretched  that  I  thought  a  drive 
would  do  me  good,  so  at  two,  I  went  out.  I 
became  so  tired  and  disgusted  with  meeting 
people  and  bowing  to  them,  that  I  turned 
around  and  came  home.  There  is  nothing 
that  makes  a  miserable  person  feel  more  mis 
erable  than  to  see  people  happier  than  her 
self. 

I  felt  as  though  I  was  ready  to  drop  when  I 
got  up  the  steps,  and  who  should  be  in  the 
reception-room  but  this  very  bone  of  conten- 


230  JUGGERNAUT: 


tion,  awaiting  my  return.  I  felt  like  flying  up 
the  stairs  and  locking  myself  in  my  room,  but 
instead  of  doing  so  childish  a  thing,  I  walked 
into  the  room  with  admirable  dignity. 

I  intended  to  see  that  he  made  his  call  very 
short ;  but  after  a  moment  we  got  talking  of 
the  new  minister  and  his  funny  little  wife,  and 
in  the  gossip  I  seemed  quite  to  forget  my 
wretchedness  for  a  while,  and  we  went  into  the 
library,  where  it  is  cosier,  and  sat  down  by  the 
fire  and  had  a  delightful  afternoon. 

Mrs.  Hetherington  called — as  she  pays  no 
attention  to  days,  but  runs  in  promiscuously — 
and  I  sent  word,  "  Not  at  home."  I  felt  a 
little  shocked  at  myself,  and  hardly  knew  \vhat 
Mr.  Everet  thought — for  it  is  a  little  unusual, 
of  course,  to  keep  a  man  whom  you  have  met 
so  seldom,  gossiping  a  whole  afternoon  in  your 
library,  and  denying  yourself  to  all  other 
callers — devoting  yourself  exclusively  to  him. 
And  I  shouldn't  have  done  it — though  there 
was  really  no  harm  in  it— if  Ed  had  not  said 
what  he  did,  last  night. 

I  didn't  encourage  Mr.  Everet  to  call  again, 
nor  try  to  be  agreeable  at  all,  but  was  just 
usual  and  everyday,  just  as  I  shall  always  be 
when  he  calls. 

He  seemed  quite  at  home,  and  we  had  tea 
in  the  library,  and  he  left  just  in  time  for  me 


A    VEILED  KECORD. 


to  dress  for  the  English  Minister's  reception— 
where  we  met  two  hours  later. 

He  —  Mr.  Everet  —  is  more  interesting  than 
any  of  the  men  I  have  met.  There  is  a  dignity 
about  him  that  I  like,  and  that  I  have  never 
found  in  anyone  else  but  Edgar.  I  did  not 
know  what  he  would  think  of  my  letting  him 
stay  as  I  did,  but  he  accepted  it  most 
naturally,  as  a  matter  of  course  —  and  it  was  a 
temptation,  for  I  was  so  miserable  that  any 
thing  seemed  acceptable  that  enlivened  me  a 
little. 

He  noticed  my  mood,  I  think,  for  he  was  not 
flippant  and  tiresome,  but  sympathetic  — 
though  we  only  referred  to  the  most  common 
place  subjects.  He  remarked  that  I  looked 
weary  and  pale.  It  does  a  woman  good  to 
have  these  little  things  noticed.  It  seemed 
quite  like  Edgar  —  as  he  used  to  be. 

Mr.  Everet  said  it  was  refreshing  to  find  a 
natural,  unaffected,  candid  woman  in  Washing 
ton.  I  do  think  it  must  seem  a  relief  to  men. 
If  women  did  as  Edgar  wishes  me  to  do,  the 
men  \vould  be  in  a  terrible  plight.  They 
would  have  to  hate  all  the  women  in  self- 
defence. 

I  couldn't  help  observing  the  interest  Mr. 
Everet  seems  to  feel  in  me  —  though  I  really 
should  not  have  thought  of  it  if  Edgar  had  not 


232  JUGGERNA  UT: 


suggested  it.  For  a  moment  there  was  a  cer 
tain  fascination  in  the  idea  of  making  a  strong, 
dignified  man  do  just  what  a  helpless  insigni 
ficant  little  woman  like  me  wants  him  to  do. 

As  a  sort  of  experiment,  I  made  him  go  to 
Gladys  Grayson's  after  the  affair  at  the  min 
ister's  although  he  had  said  that  he  had  an 
important  appointment  at  eleven,  and  that  a 
great  deal  depended  on  his  keeping  it — but 
he  went  to  the  Graysons'.  Of  course,  I  didn't 
care  a  fig  whether  he  went  or  not ;  only,  as  I 
say,  it  was  a  kind  of  experiment. 

I'm  frightfully  tired,  and  here  it  is  three 
o'clock  and  I  still  up. 

Edgar  will  be  at  home  on  Friday,  and  this 
is  Wednesday  morning.  I  shall  be  glad  to 
tell  him  again,  how  I  scorn  his  proposition — I 
shall  tell  him  that  Mr.  Everet  noticed  my 
pallor,  and  I  think  he  will  feel  a  little  ashamed 
of  himself.  He  ought  to. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  233 


XXVII. 

[From  Helen's  Diary.] 

February  — .  Arose,  breakfasted,  and  went 
for  a  drive ;  stopped  at  Gladys's  on  the  way 
home  ;  had  tea  with  her  in  her  boudoir. 

Mr.  Grayson  wanted  to  come  in  too,  but 
Gladys  wouldn't  let  him.  She  says  he  is 
really  a  terrible  bore  ;  that  she  has  to  keep 
him  down  or  he  would  run  right  over  her.  I 
wish  Edgar  would  run  right  over  me.  She 
says  that  Mr.  Grayson  never  seems  to  remem 
ber  that  after  a  woman  has  discharged  all  her 
duties,  she  is  absolutely  too  worn  out  for  the 
little  et  ceteras  and  asides  of  life.  I  think  she 
is  right.  She  is  one  of  those  women  who 
carry  conviction  with  all  they  say ;  but  I 
always  feel  in  some  way  that  Edgar  is  a  duty 
instead  of  an  et  cetera  and  an  aside.  I  dare 
say  I  shall  get  over  this  in  time.  Gladys 
assures  me  I  will. 


234  JUGGERNAUT: 


She  said  to-day  that  I  was  "just  cut  out" 
for  a  successful  diplomat ;  that  I  am  so  sincere 
and  straightforward  in  my  manner  that  I  am 
the  last  person  on  earth  to  suspect.  She  says 
it  will  be  my  "  trump  card"  when  I  know  how 
to  play  it. 

I  presume  I  am  lacking  in  fine  apprecia 
tion,  but  in  some  way  this  seemed  to  cheapen 
sincerity.  It  does  not,  of  course,  for  of  all 
women  in  the  world,  Gladys  would  be  the 
last  to  endure  cheap  sentiment  or  cheap  lace. 
Of  all  the  spotless,  high-bred,  delicate,  forcible 
women  I  have  ever  seen,  she  is  the  most 
so. 

I  blushed  to  think  of  the  cold  contempt  she 
would  feel  for  me  should  she  even  know  that  I 
had  heard  such  a  proposition.  I  represented 
to  her  a  case  like  mine,  as  though  it  were 
something  I  had  heard  of,  and  asked  her  what 
she  could  think  of  such  a  thing.  Her  haughty 
indignation  was  superb,  inspiring.  It  did  me 
good.  I  feel  just  so  myself.  I  wanted  to 
blush  for  even  having  made  Mr.  Everet  go 
there  the  other  night. 

Well,  nothing  else  of  any  account  happened 
to-day. 

I  met  Mrs.  Stevens  and  looked  the  other 
way,  at  the  pug  of  the  wife  of  the  Secretary 
of  the  Navy.  It  is  so  strange  that  she  has  no 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  235 

better  taste  than  to  wear  a  blue  gown  with  a 
brown  dog. 

I  chatted  a  moment  with  Senator  Stacy's 
wife,  and  told  her  that  her  second  child  was  a 
picture — (it  is — of  ugliness).  I  felt  it  a  duty 
to  say  this,  however,  as  the  only  thing  false 
about  it  was  the  impression  it  conveyed  to  her 
— and  the  Senator's  good  will  is  quite  neces 
sary  to  Edgar's  plans. 

Then  I  went  to  the  Talbots',  and  wound  up 
with  the  Farringtons'  reception. 

And  now,  thank  heaven,  I  am  going  to  bed, 
and  Edgar  will  be  at  home  in  the  morning. 
I  shall  go  nowhere  to-morrow  night,  for  he 
will  be  glad  to  have  me  at  home — unless  he 
should  treat  me  coldly.  I  won't  even  think 
of  that. 


236  JUGGERNAUT: 


XXIII. 

[From  Helen's  Diary.] 

February  16,  18 — .  To-day  Edgar  came 
into  the  library  after  dinner — I  dined  alone,  and 
was  taking  my  coffee  there,  cosily,  by  the 
fire.  He  stood  in  the  door  a  moment,  looking 
at  me,  before  he  entered  the  room.  The  first 
thing  he  said  was  : 

"  Good  Heavens !  What  should  not  a 
woman  like  you  be  able  to  accomplish  — 

This,  after  having  been  out  of  town  three 
days  ! 

He  said  it  as  though  wholly  engrossed  with 
that  one  thought— that  my  beauty  and  charm 
are  valuable  to  him  as  a  means  by  which  to 
accomplish,  instead  of  being  things  dear  to 
him  for  their  own  sake,  because  they  belong  to 
him. 

I  daresay  I  am  foolishly  sensitive  about  this. 
I  know  he  adores  me.  He  proved  the  injus- 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  237 

ticc  of  my  thought  a  moment  later — while  the 
impression  was  yet  in  my  mind.  He  hurried 
across  the  room  and  threw  himself  on  his 
knees  by  my  chair.  I  had  not  risen  to  meet 
him,  as  my  heart  and  first  impulse  had 
prompted,  because  his  greeting  had  repelled 
me,  but  I  felt  humiliated  and  reproached  my 
self  for  my  pettiness  afterwards. 

I  was  thankful  that  he  was  so  engrossed  with 
seeing  me  again  as  not  to  notice  it.  He  threw 
himself  on  his  knees  by  me  and  kissed  my 
hands. 

He  looks  tired  and  worn.  It  impressed  me 
for  the  first  time  as  he  knelt  there  with  his 
arms  about  my  waist.  He  said,  in  a  tone  that 
brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes : 

"  I  have  thought  of  you  almost  constantly, 
dear,  since  I  have  been  away  from  you." 

He  said  it  wistfully.  I  knew  his  mind  had 
been  on  the  scene  we  had,  here,  in  this  room 
where  I  am  writing,  before  he  left. 

There  was  a  sort  of  dreary  surrender  in  his 
tone  ;  but  every  inflection  of  his  voice,  and 
every  glance,  conveyed  passionate  love  for  me. 
I  should  have  felt  no  reproach  or  misgiving 
had  it  been  otherwise,  but  his  apparent  giving 
up,  and  hopelessness,  touched  me. 

I  do  not  know  that  I  have  done  right.  I 
have  not  mentioned  the  subject,  nor  has  he  re- 


238  JUGGERNA  UT: 


ferred  to  it  in  any  way  since  he  got  back  this 
evening.  I  don't  know  that  it  is  anything  suf 
ficiently  out  of  the  usual  order  of  things  to 
justify  my  decision.  That  Edgar  is  cruelly 
disappointed  is  certain.  That  he  does  not  re 
proach  me  is  certain.  That  he  loves  me  better 
than  he  ever  has  done  before,  is  certain. 

Two  months  ago,  had  I  greeted  him  after  a 
twenty-four  hours'  absence  as  indifferently  as  I 
fear  I  did  to-night,  he  would  not  have  for 
gotten  it  in  a  month,  but  he  was  so  thoroughly 
engrossed  in  his  own  happiness  in  getting 
home  to  me  to-night,  that  he  did  not  even 
notice  my  manner. 

I  feel  my  purpose  suddenly  shaken.  The 
memory  of  his  face,  its  resignation,  its  weary 
expression,  haunts  me.  One  moment  I  am 
impelled  to  say  "  I  will  do  anything  you  ask," 
and  the  next,  I  am  seized  with  repulsion  at  the 
thought  of  accomplishing  anything  by  such  a 
means. 

The  idea  of  a  woman's  receiving  adulation 
from  another  man  than  her  husband,  seems  a 
scandalous  thing;  but  the  idea  of  her  courting 
it — setting  out  with  a  deliberate  purpose  to 
win  it — seems  monstrous. 

And  yet,  if  Edgar  doesn't  rebel,  I  don't 
really  see  much  excuse  for  obstinacy  on  my 
part.  It  does  seem  a  little  "  far  fetched  "  in 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  239 

me  when  I  come  to  consider  the  circumstan 
ces.  If  it  were  a  usual  thing,  a  thing  that 
would  be  considered  as  a  matter  of  course,  I 
should  feel  less  strongly  about  it,  but  it  is  so 
extraordinary — at  least  it  seems  so  to  me. 

I  can  imagine  Mrs.  Hetherington  exclaiming: 
"  Disgraceful !  "  and  see  Gladys's  look  of  cold 
surprise,  tinged  with  her  ironical  expression 
that  she  preserves  for  the  little,  unconventional 
escapades  of  A,  B  and  C.  This  kind  of  thing 
is  intolerable  to  me.  When  I  think  of  this, 
every  fibre  of  my  body  resents  the  possibility 
of  such  a  thing.  And  when  I  remember  his 
face  to-night,  I  can  no  longer  think  on  the 
other  side  of  the  question. 

He  is  over  at  the  Arlington  at  this  moment, 
engaged  in  heaven  knows  what,  that  will  send 
him  home  to  me  looking  more  depressed  and 
miserable  than  ever. 

Some  one  taps  lightly  on  the  door,  and 
opens  it  without  ceremony,  and  Helen  throws 
down  her  pen  as  Braine  enters. 

It  is  as  she  has  expected.  His  face  and 
manner  indicate  fatigue.  He  brightens  up 
and  says  with  a  show  of  gayety  so  evidently 
forced  that  Helen's  lips  tremble  a  little: 

"  Well,  dearest  !  " 

She  goes  slowly  to  him,  and  takes  his  hands 


240  JUGGERNAUT: 


which  he  is  holding  out  to  her.  She  looks  at 
him  wistfully,  with  a  half  sad  little  smile  on  her 
face.  She  says  softly  : 

"Well?" 

"You  are  all  alone  to-night?  No  recep 
tions,  nor  'affairs'?" 

The  glimmer-smile  deepens  a  little,  and  she 
draws  him  towards  the  fire.  She  says— push 
ing  him  into  the  chair  : 

"Oh  yes — plenty  of  them — Gladys  gave  a 
dinner  to  the  Stones  to-night." 

"  And  you  are  not  there?"  with  a  little  sur-- 
prise  in  his  voice,  but  an  expression  half-eager, 
half-pleased  on  his  face. 

She  brightens  as  she  notes  the  look,  and 
says  softly  : 

'  No,  I  like  this  better." 

She  leans  against  him,  and  rubs  her  cheek- 
carelessly  against  his  shoulder. 

The  gratified  expression  deepens  an  instant ; 
then  Braine  says  a  little  hurriedly,  with  a 
touch  of  anxiety  in  the  tone  : 

"You  must  not  neglect  anything  for  me, 
dearest.  Social  duties  are  everything  here. 
Don't  mind  me.  I  sha'n't  feel  neglected." 

Helen  slowly  raises  her  head.  She  stares  at 
him  for  a  moment.  He  is  looking  abstract 
edly  into  the  fire,  and  patting  her  hand  in  a 
mechanical  way.  He  does  not  see  her  face. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  241 

The  expression  of  pleasure  and  gratification 
has  died  out  of  it.  Expressions  of  astonish 
ment,  humiliation,  resentment  and  hauteur 
replace  each  other  there  successively.  Now 
she  says  in  a  cold  tone  : 

"  I  did  not  remain  on  that  account,  of 
course.  I  had  a  slight  headache— a  mere 
nothing — "  as  Brainc  looks  up  anxiously— 
"  But  I  felt  that  the  crush  there  to-night  would 
not  help  it." 

She  finishes  a  little  less  coldly.  Braine  has 
not  noticed  the  tone.  When  she  has  said  that 
the  headache  is  a  "  mere  nothing,"  he  at  once 
goes  back  to  his  meditations — but  the  sudden 
look  of  anxious  sympathy  has  at  once  touched 
her,  and  caused  another  revulsion  of  feeling  in 
his  favor. 

She  crosses  the  room  and  picks  up  a  book 
from  the  table. 

Suddenly  Braine  says,  as  though  thinking 
aloud : 

"  If  this  should  go  any  farther  it  would  be  a 
bad  thing  for  Grayson." 

Helen  looks  up  from  her  book  : 

"Why?     What  is  it?" 

Braine  arouses  himself,  and  speaks  interest 
edly : 

"  This  land  grant  bill  !  Gladys  has  been 
trying  to  run  things,  it  seems,  and  has  made  a 


242  JUGGERNAUT: 

botch  of  it.  She  has  gone  too  headlong,  and 
compromised  herself  to  such  an  extent  with 
the  committee  chief,  that  when  she  was  pre 
pared  for  a  coup  de  grace,  the  congressman 
turned  the  tables.  'It  is  a  bad  thing  for  Gray- 
son.  The  man  has  her  in  his  power,  and 
swears  that  unless  Grayson  will  actively  up 
hold  the  counter-policy,  he  will  make  it  un 
comfortable  for  his  wife.  Grayson  has  just 
been  telling  me  all  about  it,  and  is  almost 
"helpless  in  the  matter.  Something  must*  be 
done." 

Helen  is  on  her  feet.  Her  eyes  are  wide 
with  astonishment,  and  something  like  horror. 
She  stammers : 

"  What— what— what  ?  " 

Her  tone  startles  Braine.  He  looks 
around : 

"Why  Helen!  What  is  the  matter,  child, 
I  didn't  imagine  it  would  startle  you  so.  Of 
course  you  feel  anxiety  for  Gladys — friends  as 
you  are — but  she  is  a  clever  woman,  and  I 
have  no  doubt  she  will  get  out  of  it  in  some 
way." 

He  speaks  reassuringly.  She  comes  to  his 
side.  She  says  hoarsely,  with  excitement  ex 
pressed  in  every  movement ; 

"  Has — has — has  Gladys  been  working 
through  Mr.  Dalzel  for  this  scheme?" 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  243 

Her  fingers  twist  nervously.  Braine  cannot 
understand  her.  He  looks  at  her  in  bewilder 
ment  : 

"  Working  for  it  ?  Why  certainly,  dear. 
Why  shouldn't  she — her  husband's  interests 
are  hers.  Yes.  She  has  been  doing  what  she 
could,  of  course — she  has  done  her  best,  and 
isn't  to  blame  for  such  a  faux  pas  as  this  ;  but 
it  seems  a  little  stupid  in  her.  There  would  be 
no  danger  of  such  a  thing  on  your  part  !  " 

He  makes  the  remark  more  to  himself  than 
to  her,  and  leans  back,  watching  her  through 
his  half-closed  lids.  How  proud  he  is  of  this 
woman  !  How  he  loves  her  ! 

Helen  stands  quietly  by  his  side,  looking  in 
tently  at  the  coals  in  the  grate.  Presently  she 
says  in  a  low,  calm  tone  of  conviction,  elation, 
irrevocable  decision  : 

"  No,  /should  make  no  mistakes." 

A  silence.     After  a  moment  : 

"  I  have  been  thinking  over  the  little  con 
versation  we  had  before  you  left,  Edgar.  I 
have  changed  my  mind.  I  think  I  will  see — 
Everet." 

Braine  rises  from  his  chair.  He  stands  look 
ing  at  her  fora  moment.  He  takes  her  in  his 
arms. 


244  JUGGERNAUT: 


XXIX. 

[From  Helen's  Diary.] 

February,  18 — .  Well,  I  really  cannot  ex 
press  my  feelings.  It  seems  to  me  that  in 
twenty-four  hours  I  have  been  metamor 
phosed  and  am  some  one  else  living  in  another 
world. 

Now  that  I  have  undertaken  this,  I  have  no 
idea  of  failing.  I  will  succeed,  if  it  costs  every 
thing.  I  suddenly  feel  that  I  am  made  for  this. 

Gladys  called  to-day.  Everet  had  just  made 
a  short  call  and  gone. —  He  did  not  know 
whether  he  left  by  the  front  steps  to  the  street, 
or  was  making  a  descent  from  heaven  into  the 
other  place — and  yet,  I  made  only  the  least 
exertion  to  please,  imaginable.  It  made  me 
feel  superb,  magnificent,  inspired,  when  I 
thought  of  what  I  can  do  if  I  really  try. 

I  felt  a  mad  exultation  over  Gladys.  She 
was  as  pale  as  a  ghost,  and  hardly  seemed  to 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  245 

know  what  she  was  talking  about.  I  should 
never  betray  my  defeat  or  difficulty  if  I  should 
meet  with  it.  I  felt  such  a  superiority  that  I 
almost  felt  like  shrieking  it  at  her,  when 
remembering  how  she  has  deceived  me  all  this 
time.  I  was  secretly  delighted,  though,  at  my 
astonishing  self-control,  for  she  never  noticed 
a  thing.  She  said  : 

"  How  I  envy  your  freedom  from  care  and 
anxiety,  and  your  innocence  of  all  the  wire 
pulling  that  some  have  to  do." 

She  looked  fagged  out  when  she  said  this, 
I  should  not  have  known  her.  She  never 
spoke  in  this  manner  before. 

I  smiled  and  said,  "  I  presumed  it  must  be 
wearing — especially  if  one  was  not  clever 
enough  to  succeed." 

She  looked  at  me  sharply,  and  with  some 
surprise.  Yesterday  I  would  have  shrivelled 
all  up  under  the  look.  To-day  I  just  smiled 
calmly. 

If  nothing  else  urged  me  on — if  I  were  not 
doing  this  for  Edgar's  sake — I  should  be  wild 
to  attempt  it  just  to  prove  my  power  and 
ability  superior  to  Gladys's.  To  think  how 
completely  she  has  deceived  me  all  this 
time ! 

Edgar  almost  wearied  me  with  affection  to 
night.  One  can't  be  always  troubled  with 


246  JUG  GERNA  UT: 


sentiment,  when  one  has  matters  of  so  much 
importance  on  hand. 

Of  course,  I  did  nothing  to  wound  his  feel 
ings  but  he  understood  by  my  manner  that  I 
was  preoccupied. 

He  tried  to  coach  me.  Coach  me !  How 
stupid  men  are  sometimes !  He  was  deter 
mined  that  I  should  grasp  Everet  by  the  col 
lar  and  hold  him  while  he  consented  to  do  as  I 
wished.  I  gave  him  to  understand  that  I  must 
be  absolutely  let  alone  in  this  matter  ;  that  in 
an  affair  like  this  there  was  nothing  for  him  to 
teach  me.  Such  a  proceeding  would  ruin  all. 
Everet  would  jump  out  of  the  window,  and 
never  be  seen  any  more.  It  is  my  innocence 
and  unworldliness  that  have  attracted  him,  and 
it  is  that  that  must  fascinate  him.  I  must  ap 
pear  to  gain  nothing  by  strategy,  even  in  the 
end,  but  by  pure  uncalculating  innocence.  He 
must  be  absolutely  under  my  control  before 
one  other  step  is  taken. 

If  argument  would  have  accomplished  his 
yielding  there  would  be  no  need  of  effort  on 
my  part.  It  would  have  been  accomplished 
long  ago.  If  I  am  to  be  mistress  of  the  situa 
tion  I  must  work  entirely  with  personal  allure 
ment. 

To-night,  at  dinner  I  made  him  drink  "  to 
my  success."  It  was  delicious.  He  had  no 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  247 

more  idea  of  the  import  of  it  than  of  the  way 
my  back  hair  was  done.  This  one  little  inci 
dent  so  delighted  me  that  I  had  to  laugh  and 
talk  incessantly  to  keep  myself  within  bounds. 

Ed  dined  at  home,  with  us,  and  when  I 
looked  across  at  him  as  I  made  the  suggestion, 
my  eyes  were  fairly  dancing  at  the  supreme 
irony  of  it,  but  Edgar  did  not  seem  to  see  its 
deliciousness,  and  looked  as  grave  as  an 
owl. 

Afterward  he  said  :  "  Women  are  incom 
prehensible.  Now — there  was  no  necessity 
whatever  for  that  little  scene  at  dinner.  Ab 
solutely  none," 

Of  course  there  was  none.  If  there  had 
been,  the  point  would  have  been  lacking. 

To-morrow  night  I  give  a  theatre  party — 
Everet  goes — and  comes  home  with  me 
Hcigho  ! 


248  JUGGERNAUT: 


XXX. 

[From   Helen's  Diary.] 

March,  • — .  It  has  been  days  since  I  have 
written  in  this  diary.  There  has  been  a  good 
deal  to  record,  but  I  have  had  neither  the 
time  nor  desire  to  do  it. 

I  see  Everet  every  day.  He  lunches  and 
dines  here  quite  as  though  it  were  home  to 
him.  Edgar  is  seldom  here,  but  when  he  is, 
he  is  discretion  itself.  There  is  always  a 
severe  dignity  preserved  between  them. 

Everet  has  the  entire  run  of  the  house,  and 
drops  into  my  boudoir  for  tea  in  the  after 
noons,  as  a  matter  of  course. 

I  manage  matters  in  such  a  way  that  we 
are  never  seen  together  in  public,  except  as 
we  casually  meet.  It  required  some  diplo 
macy  to  get  out  of  making  one  of  his  theatre 
party  last  week,  for  it  would  never  do  for  me 
to  appear  conscious  of  any  wrong  in  our 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  249 

public  association  while  I  admit  him  so  inti 
mately  in  private ;  it  would  betray  a  depth  of 
discernment  and  worldliness  that  he  does  not 
dream  exists. 

Our  relations  are  those  of  intimate  friends, 
good  comrades,  but  there  is  always  a  dignity 
preserved.  Nothing  occurs  tha.t  the  most 
scrupulous  could  find  fault  with — if  they  knew 
all ;  it  would  never  do  for  them  to  know  a 
little.  It  is  enough  to  keep  him  where  he  sees 
me  constantly  and  listens  to  me. 

The  ease  with  which  I  charm  and  achieve, 
astonishes  myself.  There  is  never  a  word  of 
business.  He  does  not  know  that  I  know  the 
House  from  the  Senate — I  dont  when  it  comes 
to  that,  but  I  can  accomplish  when  I  am  told 
what  to  work  for. 

Everet,  himself,  does  not  know  how  essen 
tial  I  am  to  him.  I  discover  from  time  to 
time  the  progress  I  am  making  by  being 
"  out  "  two  or  three  days  in  succession  when 
he  calls.  I  can  judge  much  from  the  manner 
of  his  greeting  when  he  next  finds  me  at  home. 

To-day  I  did  a  master-stroke.  He  has  some 
vague  idea  of  his  danger.  He  begins  to  under 
stand  in  some  degree  what  my  presence  means 
to  him.  He  was  inclined  to  break  loose,  and 
to-day  he  announced  that  he  was  going  north 
for  a  time. 


250  JUG  GERNA  UT: 


I  started,  and — I  think  I  turned  a  little  pale. 
I  intended  to,  and  for  some  reason,  I  felt  so. 
I  said  quite  carelessly  :  "  Yes  ?  "  after  he  had 
noticed  the  start. 

He  turned  white.  He  came  up  to  me  and 
took  my  hands  in  his,  and  said  in  a  low  tone : 

"  Would  you  mind  ?  " 

I  looked  up  in  surprise  (apparently) — though 
the  success  was  in  making  the  apparence  appar 
ent — and  said  :  "  One  always  dislikes  to  lose 
old  friends."  I  said  it  quite  as  a  matter  of 
course.  I  got  up  and  staggered  a  little,  as  I 
went  towards  the  door. 

He  was  terribly  frightened.  I  said  it  was 
"  nothing  ;  "  that  sometimes  I  had  those  slight 
"attacks"  if  I  became  a  little  excited.  The 
last  appeared  to  be  a  slip  of  the  tongue.  I  did 
not  say  what  the  "attacks"  were,  nor  what 
excitement  had  caused  this  particular  one,  but 
it  was  quite  unnecessary.  It  frightened  him, 
and  made  him  suffer  a  little. 

He  remarked  that  his  "  business  at  the  north 
might  be  postponed  for  some  time  yet."  I 
thought  so  too  ! 

There  seemed  something  mean  in  all  this, 
but  a  wife  who  has  any  affection  for  her  hus 
band,  must  feel  that  his  interests  are  hers. 

Gladys  looks  terrible.  The  last  time  I  saw 
Ed — four  days  ago,  at  breakfast — he  said 


A   VEILED  RECORD. 


things  were  narrowing  to  a  focus  ;  that  he  was 
afraid  there  was  no  loop-hole  left  her.  Either 
Grayson  must  go  over,  or  Gladys  is  lost.  He'll 
go  over,  of  course  —  and  stay  over,  until  he  gets 
an  advantage. 

This  constant  separation  from  Edgar  is  tell 
ing  on  me.  I  don't  realize  it  save  at  moments 
of  relaxation,  for  I  am  generally  as  hurried  and 
preoccupied  these  days  as  he.  But  there  is  a 
lack  that  I  sometimes  feel  must  be  supplied. 
I  have  not  even  seen  him  since  Thursday, 
and  I  — 

Braine  comes  hurriedly  into  the  library,  and 
speaks  quickly  while  tossing  over  the  papers 
on  the  desk  by  Helen  : 

"  Have  you  seen  a  bundle  of  papers  bearing 
the  stamp,  Helen?  I  thought  I  left  them 
here." 

She  shakes  her  head. 

"  What  have  you  to  do  to-night,  Edgar  ?  " 

"  To-night  ?  "  absently.  He  pauses  and  con 
tinues  his  search  for  the  papers. 

"Well?"  She  speaks  a  little  coldly  this 
time.  She  dislikes  to  be  ignored. 

"  Eh  ?  Oh  !  Yes  !  What  am  I  going  to 
do  to-night?  I  can't  tell  you,  child,  I  have 
more  on  hand  than  ten  men  could  do.  I  don't 
know.  Oh  !  "•  —  facing  her  suddenly  —  "  about 


252  JUGGERNAUT: 


this  matter  with  Everet  !  What  are  you  ac 
complishing,  Helen  ?  Matters  are  moving  too 
slowly.  Something  must  be  done  at  once." 

She  has  not  had  more  than  ten  minutes  con 
versation  with  Braine  in  a  week.  This  is  the 
manner  in  which  this  opportunity  is  improved. 
She  bites  her  lip.  After  a  moment  she  replies 
carelessly  : 

"  Really,  Edgar,  you  expect  a  great  deal. 
I  could  hardly  be  expected  to  gain  you  the 
Presidency  in  six  weeks,  with  nothing  to  aid 
me  but  my  own  efforts." 

"  Hardly;  but  this  is  not  exactly  what  is  re 
quired  of  you.  It  seems  to  me  that  you 
might  hasten  matters  a  little  more." 

She  does  not  reply. 

As  Braine  is  leaving  the  room,  he  asks : 

"  Can  you  bring  matters  to  a  focus  in  a 
week  ?  " 

"  No — in  two  weeks,"  continuing  her  writ 
ing  without  looking  up. 

Braine  goes  out.  As  the  curtain  falls  be 
hind  him  she  drops  her  pen,  and  rising,  begins 
to  pace  the  floor  restlessly.  She  is  suddenly 
wretched.  She  hates  Everet.  She  has  a  mad 
desire  to  rush  after  Braine,  and  throw  herself 
into  his  arms.  With  it  all,  she  feels  herself 
rebuffed,  humiliated. 

She  seems  to  have  entirely  dropped  out  of 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  253 

Braine's  life,  save  so  far  as  she  contributes  to 
his  success  and  advancement — for  this  is  not 
the  only  matter  she  has  been  handling  suc 
cessfully  in  the  last  two  months. 

She  leans  her  head  wearily  against  the  man 
tel,  and  sobs  softly  to  herself.  She  is  so  wrapt 
up  in  her  own  wretchedness  that  she  is  oblivi 
ous  of  everything  else,  and  does  not  hear 
Everet  as  he  crosses  the  floor. 

He  stands  a  moment  looking  at  her  in  sur 
prise.  Then  the  expression  on  his  face 
becomes  one  of  anxiety,  pain,  tenderness. 
He  approaches  her  softly,  and  says  in  a  low 
tone  : 

"  Mrs.  Braine  !  " 

Helen  starts  and  raises  her  head.  She  does 
not  look  up,  but  stands  with  her  back  to  him 
as  she  dries  the  tears,  and  tries  to  control  her 
voice.  She  says — for  want  of  something  bet 
ter: 

"  I  did  not  hear  you  come  in." 

Everet  is  silent  a  moment,  then  lays  his 
hand  on  her  arm.  His  touch  is  delicate. 
There  is  a  subtle  tenderness  about  it. 

She  suddenly  starts,  and  turns  ghastly.  She 
looks  up  at  him  with  something  like  fright  and 
appeal  in  her  face,  and  he  docs  not  compre 
hend  the  look.  She  flings  his  hand  away  with 
a  fierce  movement. 


254  JUGGERNAUT: 


Everet  steps  back.  He  looks  at  her  now 
flushed  face  in  astonishment.  She  says  hoarse- 
ly: 

"Never  do  that  again.  Do  you  hear? 
Never  touch  me  again  !  " 

Everet  feels  that  there  is  a  little  injustice  in 
her  tone.  He  has  been  a  constant  visitor  at 
this  house  for  weeks.  He  has  done  no  more 
than  any  acquaintance,  who  knew  her  more 
than  slightly,  might  have  done  under  the  cir 
cumstances.  He  steps  back,  and  says  coldly : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  and  turns  toward  the 
the  door. 

The  necessity  of  the  occasion  comes  to  her 
quickly.  He  must  not  go  in  this  way — what 
would  Braine  say. 

She  calls  :  "  Chester."  She  has  never  used 
Everet's  first  name  before. 

He  turns  swiftly  and  stands  regarding  her. 
There  is  eagerness  in  his  face. 

She  drops  her  eyes.  She  holds  out  her 
hand  and  says : 

"  I  can't  tell  you  why  I  have  spoken  in  this 
way.  I  want  you  to  come  back.  Believe  me 
when  I  tell  you  that  it  was  not  because  you 
offended  me — I  offended  myself.  I — I  can 
explain  nothing.  I  beg  you  to  come  back." 

He  is  at  her  side.  He  grasps  her  hands. 
He  says — his  voice  husky  with  emotion : 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  2$$ 

"  I  will  not  go  if  you  would  have  me  stay — 
Did  you  wish  it,  I  would  never — 

Me  breaks  off  suddenly.  Her  sweet,  inno 
cent  face  is  raised  inquiringly — its  innocncee 
is  what  forbids. 

She  motions  him  into  the  chair  by  the  fire, 
and  sits  down  near  the  window.  She  keeps 
that  distance  between  them  while  he  stays. 

He  wants  her  to  go  to  the  theatre  with  him 
and  a  party  of  friends.  He  pleads  that  she  is 
too  tired  for  anything  that  will  require  more 
of  effort,  that  night. 

She  refuses  in  a  semi-desperate  tone.  She 
is  going  to  a  cabinet  affair !  She  wants  to  go  ! 
She  would  not  miss  it  for  anything !  He 
leaves  the  house,  and  she  goes  upstairs  slowly. 

Braine's  valet  is  just  entering  his  master's 
dressing-room  as  Helen  goes  by.  She  pauses, 
and  tells  him  to  ask  Mr.  Braine  to  come  to 
her  boudoir  before  he  goes  out. 

She  hurries  to  her  room,  and  throws  on  a 
loose  negligee;  stirs  the  fire:  darkens  the 
room  ;  lights  the  candles.  The  scene  is  charm 
ing,  seductive — perhaps  irresistible.  She 
throws  herself  negligently  into  a  chair,  and 
puts  her  pretty  feet  on  the  fender.  She  smiles 
a  little  grimly.  The  scene  might  have  been 
prepared  for  Everet — so  carefully  has  she 
arranged  ijt. 


256  JUGGERNA  UT: 


After  twenty  minutes,  Braine  taps.  She 
calls  "  Come  in,"  and  half  turns  in  her  chair 
with  a  smile.  She  holds  out  her  hand : 

"  You  will  come  to  the  fire  ?  " 

Braine  nods,  and  steps  just  inside  the  door: 

"You  wanted  me  for  something?"  button 
ing  his  glove — he  speaks  pleasantly,  but  hur 
riedly. 

She  says  calmly ;  "  I  was  not  going  out  to 
night." 

There  is  the  most  imperceptible  pause  be 
fore  her  next  words.  Braine  makes  no  remark. 
She  continues ; 

"  And  I  thought  if  you  had  any  work  to  do 
in  the  way  of  writing,  I  might  as  well  do  it." 

She  finishes,  and  turns  back  to  the  fire. 

He  replies  :  "  If  you  are  not  going  out,  you 
might  draft  a  reply  to  Carson's  letter.  It 
must  be  carefully  done.  There  must  be 
enough  in  it  to  satisfy  him,  but  not  enough  to 
commit  me.  You  understand  about  what  I 
want,  I  think." 

"  Yes.     I  think  so,"  drily. 

"  So — I'm  off,  dear.     Good-bye." 

The  door  closes.  The  woman  at  the  fire 
rises  and  looks  slowly  about  the  room.  The 
expression  in  her  face  is  an  ugly  one.  She 
rings  her  bell,  and  mutters,  "H'm!"  as  she 
unties  her  gown. 


A   VEILED  RECORD. 


She  is  passive  while  Susanne  dresses  her. 
She  docs  not  leave  the  house  for  an  hour  and 
a  half  yet.  She  finishes  her  toilet,  and  goes 
back  to  the  library  to  prepare  the  letter  to 
Carson.  It  is  a  masterpiece  when  finished,  and 
she  studies  it  with  satisfaction. 

She  put  on  her  wraps  and  waits  a  moment 
for  the  carriage,  then  drives  off  to  the  "  Cabi 
net  affair." 

She  has  her  wits  about  her  —  she  has  a  busi 
ness  affair  here,  too.  She  remains  until  she 
knows  she  has  accomplished  all  she  can,  and 
then  sends  for  her  carriage. 

She  keeps  up  the  farce  until  she  finds  her 
self  in  the  night  air,  and  then  is  so  silent  that 
a  man  who  has  been  violently  in  love  with 
her  for  two  entire  days,  is  heart-broken  as  he 
takes  her  to  her  carriage. 

As  she  comes  within  range  of  the  window, 
she  sees  the  form  of  a  man  inside  the  carriage, 
and  instinctively  knows  who  it  is.  She  steps 
ahead,  and  stands  before  the  door  as  the 
groom  opens  it,  filling  it  as  completely  as  she 
can,  and  saying  an  abrupt  good  night.  She 
leans  in  front  of  Everet  as  she  pulls  the  rug 
over  her,  and  they  drive  away. 

She  turns  to  him  and  looks  at  him  inquisi 
tively,  and  a  little  coldly.  She  says.  "  How  is 
this?" 


258  JUGGERNA  UT : 


Everet  seizes  her  hand. 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  waited  for  you  in  the 
carriage.  That  is  all.  I  could  not  help  it.  I 
had  to  see  you  again  to-night." 

Her  hand  is  still  in  his.  Perhaps  her  fin 
gers  cling  as  well  as  his.  There  is  a  deep 
frown  between  her  eyes.  She  says  with  dis 
tress  in  her  voice : 

"You  should  not.  You  should  not.  How 
could  you  ?  I — I — I — " 

She  pauses  helplessly.  It  seems  to  Everet 
the  helplessness  of  innocence.  He  leans  near 
her  an  instant ;  then,  with  an  effort  at  self- 
control,  drops  her  hand. 

She  leans  her  head  against  the  side  of  the 
carriage.  She  says  under  her  breath,  "  Oh, 
my  God  ! " 

He  hears  it,  and  thinks  he  has  distressed 
her,  shocked  her,  and  begins  an  apology,  his 
voice  emotion-choked.  He  feels  that  he  has 
been  a  brute  to  intrude  on  her  in  this  way. 

She  does  not  answer.  He  can  feel  that  her 
body  is,  quivering  as  though  with  cold.  He 
attempts  to  draw  the  rug  more  closely  about 
her,  but  she  winces  and  says  with  a  wail : 

"  Don't,  don't,  don't!" 

He  desists,  and  sits  watching  her  helplessly. 
She  does  not  speak  again  until  they  have 
reached  home.  When  he  touches  her  hand 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  259 

for  a  moment  as  he  helps  her  from  the 
brougham,  it  is  hot  and  feverish. 

She  says,  as  he  turns  to  follow  her  up  the 
steps  : 

"  Don't  come  in  to-night."  She  hesitates  a 
moment,  and  then  adds  with  a  rush, 

"  I  must  be  with  my  husband.  To-morrow 
—I  will  see  you  to-morrow." 

She  hurries  up  the  steps,  and  Woolet  opens 
the  door. 

"  Is  Mr.  Braine  in  yet?" 

"  In  the  library,  madame." 

She  hurries  through  the  hall,  untying  the 
cords  of  her  wrap  as  she  goes.  She  pushes 
open  the  door,  enters,  closes  the  door,  and 
stands  with  her  back  against  it,  looking  at 
Braine  who  is  writing  at  the  desk. 

As  she  enters,  he  glances  up  hastily,  nods, 
and  returns  to  his  writing,  remarking  ab 
sently  : 

"  Home?" 

She  does  not  answer.  She  stands  watching 
him,  listening  to  the  hurried  scratch  of  the 
pen. 

Presently  she  says  : 

"  Edgar  !  " 

"  Yes  ?  "  without  looking  up. 

She  repeats  in  a  loud,  emphatic  voice  : 

"  Edzar  !  " 


260  JUGGERiYA  UT : 


He  raises  his  head  in  surprise.  He  looks  at 
her. 

"  Well  ?— Are  you  ill,  Helen  ?  " 

Her  peculiar  expression  has  arrested  his 
attention,  and  he  lays  down  his  pen.  Her 
face  is  flushed.  Her  eyes  are  strangely  bril 
liant.  Her  long,  nervous  fingers  twist  in  the 
cords  of  her  wrap.  She  leaves  her  position  at 
the  door,  and  advancing  into  the  room,  throws 
herself  into  a  chair.  She  replies  in  a  hard 
voice : 

"111?     No,  oh  no!" 

Braine  looks  at  her  inquiringly.  She  is 
looking  straight  into  his  face.  He  says  pres 
ently,  with  eagerness : 

"  Oh,  you  have  something  to  tell  me  about 
Everet?" 

"  I  have  nothing  to  tell  you  about  Everet," 
in  the  same  inscrutable  tone. 

Braine  looks  annoyed,  and  says  a  little 
quickly: 

"You  want  something  of  me?" 

There  is  silence  for  a  moment  while  they 
look  into  each  other's  faces.  Then  she  bursts 
out  excitedly  : 

"Yes,  I  want  something  of  you.  I  want  you 
to  take  me  in  your  arms.  I  want  you  to  for 
get  that  you  are  a  United  States  Senator  for  an 
hour.  I  want  you  to  forget  that  any  one  lives 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  261 

but  you  and  me.  I  want  you  to  say,  '  Helen, 
I  love  you.'  I  want  convincing  demonstration 
that  I  am  your  wife  as  well  as  your  lobbyist." 

There  is  a  sting  in  every  word.  She  is  on 
her  feet,  flashing  her  emotion  at  him  with  her 
beautiful  eyes. 

Braine  half  rises  from  his  chair,  and  then 
sinks  back.  His  face  grows  tender.  He  says 
kindly  : 

"  Come  here,  dear.  I  do  love  you.  I  know 
I  have  been  cold  and  preoccupied  lately,  but 
you  should  understand  that  I  love  you,  Helen, 
better  than  my  life.  This  is  not  like  you,  dear. 
You  are  tired  and  nervous.  All  this  business 
is  new  to  you.  I  am  proud  of  you,  little  one. 
I  have  unlimited  confidence  in  you.  There — 
there,"  as  she  sobs  violently  in  his  arms  ;  "  you 
are  worn  out,  dear.  You  must  not  sit  up. 
To-morrow  we  will  talk  it  all  over.  Kiss  me 
good  night,  dear — 

She  suddenly  tightens  her  arms  around  him. 
She  sobs : 

"  Not  good  night,  Ed.  Not  good  night.  I 
must  not  be  put  off  so  to-night,  dearest.  I — -I 
love  you  so." 

She  is  kissing  his  hands  and  face  excitedly, 
and  is  speaking  in  little  broken  phrases.  All 
her  blood  seems  to  have  become  a  quivering 
flame. 


262  JUGGERNA  UT  : 


Braine  soothes  her  gently  and  says  : 

"  You  shall  not  be  put  off.  I  said  good 
night,  dear,  out  of  consideration  for  you.  You 
look  so  exhausted,  dear  child.  I  must  do  a 
little  more  work,  and  then  I  will  stop.  Go  up 
and  get  off  your  tight,  uncomfortable  gown. 
I  will  not  be  long." 

He  touches  her  forehead  with  his  lips.  She 
moves  toward  the  door.  She  says  brokenly, 
through  her  smiles : 

"  It  is  good  of  you,  Ed." 

He  smiles  and  replies  : 

"  Good  to  myself" 

She  hurries  through  the  hall  and  up  the 
stairs.  She  is  trembling  with  happiness.  She 
has  not  had  so  intimate  a  conversation  with 
Braine  for  three  weeks.  She  pushes  open  her 
dressing-room  door.  Susanne  has  been  asleep, 
but  rises  quickly  to  assist  her.  She  undresses 
Helen  deftly  : 

"  Is  Madame  going  at  once  to  bed?  " 

Helen  shakes  her  head.  Susanne  brings  her 
a  negligee.  Helen  pushes  it  away: 

"  No,  the  new  one — the  one  sent  home  yes 
terday." 

Susanne's  eyes  sparkle.  She  brings  it  at 
once.  She  remarks  : 

"  Madame  has  enjoyed  herself?" 

Helen's  face  is  wreathed  in  a  constant,  misty 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  263 

smile.  She  looks  inquiringly  at  Susanne  and 
answers  : 

"  Yes — no — you  may  go  now.  Good 
night.' 

For  a  moment  after  Susanne  is  gone,  Helen 
stands  thoughtfully  before  the  mirror.  She 
looks  at  her  reflection  carefully.  She  says  half 
aloud  : 

"  How  beautiful  I  am  !  I  never  was  so  glad 
to  be  beautiful,  before.  I  feel  like  a  young 
girl  again." 

She  studies  the  tall,  lissome  figure  before 
her.  The  folds  of  her  gown  cling  to  her  limbs, 
emphasizing  every  sumptuous  curve.  She  says 
in  a  little  tone  of  elation  : 

"  I  low  glad  Edgar  must  be  that  you  belong 
to  him,"  nodding  at  herself. 

She  hears  the  library  door  open  below,  and 
goes  to  the  door.  She  opens  it  cautiously. 
There  is  in  her  manner,  the  delicious  shyness 
of  a  young  girl  with  her  first  lover.  She  lis 
tens  a  moment,  and  hearing  no  step,  goes 
softly  to  the  stairs.  The  hall  door  below  is 
just  closing. 

Braine  has  gone  out. 


264  JUGGERNAUT: 


XXXI. 

SUSANNE  comes  into  the  room,  saying  to 
Helen  who  lies  in  bed,  listlessly  staring  out  of 
the  window  into  the  frosty  morning  : 

"  Madame's  bath  is  ready." 

Helen  rises  and  goes  toward  the  bath-room. 
Her  movements  are  languid,  spiritless.  Her 
face  indicates  a  sleepless  night.  When  she 
takes  her  seat  at  the  dressing-table,  she  remarks 
briefly : 

"  Make  me  look  my  best  this  morning.  I 
am  particularly  anxious  this  morning." 

"  Yes,  Madame." 

The  maid  works  deftly,  and  soon  Helen, 
perfectly  equipped,  opens  her  door.  She  gives 
a  furtive  glance  down  the  hall. 

Braine's  room  door  stands  open,  and  she  gets 
a  glimpse  of  Sherry  brushing  a  dress  coat 
within.  She  knows  that  Braine  is  up,  and 
thinks  he  has  probably  gone  out.  She  goes 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  265 

collectedly  down  the  stairs,  and  enters  the 
breakfast  room. 

Braine  sits  in  the  alcove,  reading  the  morn 
ing  papers.  As  she  enters,  he  looks  up  and 
says  : 

"  Listen  to  this,  Helen,"  and  he  begins 
reading  a  sensational  article  implicating  the 
Graysons  in  a  scandal  so  thinly  disguised  in 
the  telling,  that  the  disguise  serves  only  to 
emphasize  what  lies  beneath  it,  as  a  veil  often 
accentuates  the  face  it  pretends  to  conceal. 

After  a  few  words  touching  this  affair, 
Braine  says,  as  though  suddenly  remembering 
the  matter  : 

"  I  was  sorry  to  disappoint  you  last  night, 
dear — 

Helen  interrupts  him,  raising  her  eyebrows, 
and  saying,  curiously: 

"  Disappoint  me?  " 

"  By  not  joining  you  as  I  promised." 

"  Oh  !  "  in  a  calm,  indifferent  tone,  as  though 
she  had  quite  forgotten  the  circumstance. 

"  I  happened  to  remember  at  the  last  min 
ute  that  Weldon  was  to  leave  on  the  early 
train  for  the  north,  and  I  had  to  see  him  with 
out  fail  before  he  left,  so  I  ran  down  to  his 
hotel.  We  talked  until  three  o'clock,  and  I 
knew  you  were  so  tired  that  you  would  be 
asleep  by  then." 


266  JUGGERNA  UT: 


She  replies  calmly  : 

"  Oh  yes,  I  was  asleep  by  then.  It  was 
quite  as  well,  I  was  very  tired." 

Her  indifference  is  so  apparent  that  it 
amounts  to  scant  courtesy. 

This  piques  Braine  a  little,  and  he  invol 
untarily  looks  up,  and  says  in  a  tone  just  a 
trifle  acid  : 

"  Had  I  known  that  it  was  '  just  as  well,'  I 
should  have  had  my  breakfast  thirty  minutes 
ago,  and  been  down  town.  Perhaps  I  was 
justified,  however,  in  making  the  mistake  and 
losing  valuable  time.  You  were  last  evening 
— somewhat — impulsive,  if  I  remember  rightly." 

He  is  annoyed  this  morning.  He  smiles  a 
little  indulgently. 

Helen  has  been  looking  into  his  eyes  while 
he  has  spokeYi.  She  rises  with  an  indescriba 
ble  air.  She  says  in  an  icy  tone  of  reproof : 

"You  are  intolerable,  sir,"  and  leaves  the 
room. 

Braine  bites  his  lip.  He  sees  his  mistake — 
the  first  of  its  kind  he  ever  made — and  how  un 
pardonable  it  must  seem  to  a  delicate  woman 
like  Helen  !  He  is  surprised  and  annoyed  at 
himself,  and  finishing  his  breakfast  quickly, 
hurries  away. 

The  day  drags  slowly.  Helen  does  not 
leave  her  room  again.  Everet  calls,  and  she 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  267 

sends  him  word  that  she  has  a  headache — to 
call  in  the  evening,  about  half-past  eight. 

She  means  to  get  this  matter  off  her  hands 
at  once.  The  situation — under  the  circum 
stances — is  becoming  unbearable.  She  can 
neither  read  nor  write  to-day,  and  time  drags 
heavily. 

When  she  recalls  last  night,  and  Braine's  af 
front  this  morning,  she  feels  her  face  tingle 
with  mortification.  That  she  should  humili 
ate  herself  sufficiently  to  sue  for  Braine's  ca 
resses,  and  then  be  ignored,  neglected,  forgot 
ten,  was  bad  enough  ;  that  he  should  refer  to 
the  matter  as  her  disappointment  was  worse  ; 
but  that  he  should  remind  her  of  her  part  in 
it,  is  not  to  be  endured. 

She  finds  herself  biting  her  lip  or  clenching 
her  hands  until  the  pain  reminds  her  of  what 
she  is  doing. 

Toward  evening,  she  throws  herself  on  the 
bed  and  sleeps. 


268  JUGGERNAUT: 


XXXII. 

"  BE  quick  !     Don't  move  so  slowly." 

Helen  pulls  the  little  curls  about  her  tem 
ples,  with  an  impatient  twitch.  Susanne  does 
not  reply,  but  seems  to  be  a  little  more  deft 
in  her  movements. 

Helen  is  pale,  and  her  face  looks  a  little 
haggard  ;  there  is  a  peculiar  brilliancy  in  her 
eyes  ;  there  is  something  vaguely  pathetic  in 
the  droop  of  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

She  sits  quietly  in  her  chair  for  a  moment, 
evidently  exerting  herself  to  be  calm.  Su 
sanne  works  intently  at  the  heavy  coils  of  her 
hair,  and  the  gold  pins  she  is  skewering  through 
it. 

Presently,  Helen  leans  forward  to  look  at 
herself  more  closely  in  the  mirror,  and  upsets 
a  bottle  of  toilet  water  that  deluges  powders, 
brushes,  toilet  creams  and  the  rest  of  the  array 
on  the  low,  French  table. 

She  rises  with  an  angry  exclamation.     She 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  269 

is  quivering  in  every  fibre.  She  says  in  a  low 
voice,  hoarse  with  irritation,  nervousness,  ex 
citement  : 

"  You  may  go.  Get  me  a  negligee  first.  I 
shall  not  dress  to-night." 

Susanne  stares  at  her. 

"  Monsieur  Everet,  Madame!  " 

Helen  turns  slowly  and  looks  at  her.  She 
says,  in  the  same  peculiarly  low  voice  of  a  mo 
ment  ago : 

"  Never  speak  of  him  again.  Remember! — 
or  you  leave  my  service." 

The  girl  steps  back  and  murmurs  something 
apologetic.  Some  one  knocks  on  the  door. 
Helen  motions  to  Susanne,  with  her  finger  on 
her  lips,  and  starts  towards  the  bedroom. 

Susanne  moves  slowly  to  give  Helen  time  to 
leave  the  room  ;  but  the  door  opens  and  Braine 
steps  in  before  Helen  has  reached  the  cur 
tains. 

He  says  hurriedly  : 

"  Pardon,  Helen  !  You  are  dressing  ?  May 
I  see  you  alone  for  a  moment  ?  I  won't  de 
tain  you  long." 

She  nods  slightly,  and  makes  a  gesture  of 
dismissal  to  Susanne,  as  she  comes  slowly  back 
to  the  dressing-table. 

Her  shoulders  are  bare  :  she  had  just  thrown 
off  her  dressing-gown  ;  she  pulls  about  her  the 


2/0  JUGGERNAUT: 


scarf  that  lies  over  the  chair  back,  Braine  leans 
against  the  chiffonniere  watching  her  absently. 

"  How  beautiful  you  are,  Helen  !  " 

"  You  wanted  to  speak  to  me  of  something 
particular?  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  arousing  himself.  "Yes.  Now, 
about  this  affair  with  Everet  !  Things  must 
come  to  a  focus  to-night.  You  understand  all 
it  means  to  me.  Success  in  the  scheme  means 
advancement  in  every  way — politically  and 
socially— you  understand  as  well  as  I.  Fail 
ure, — well,  we  will  not  consider  failure.  Make 
him — 

She  makes  a  sudden  gesture  of  the  hand  : 

"  I  cannot! — not  to-night.  I  am  not  well — 
j " 

Braine  straightens  himself.  He  says  coldly, 
with  a  flavor  of  reproof  in  his  tone  : 

"  You  will  not  see  him  !  This  is  hardly  the 
time  to  indulge  caprice.  Of  course  you  will 
see  him,  and  do  what  you  can.  If  you  fail 
then,  it  will  be  nothing  for  which  you  are  to 
blame ;  but  I  insist  that  in  this  crisis  you  make 
what  effort  you  can  for  our  mutual  benefit. 
My  advancement  is  yours.  I  shall  count  on 
you.  You  cannot  fail  if  you  exert  yourself 
ever  so  little,"  with  a  touch  of  tenderness  and 
some  pride,  and  a  great  deal  of  confidence  in 
the  tone. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  2/1 

"Ed!" 

Helen  rises  suddenly  and  comes  towards 
him.  She  holds  out  her  hands  with  a  little 
appeal.  Her  face  is  very  white,  and  her  lips 
are  quivering. 

He  takes  her  hands  kindly,  and  laughs 
lightly: 

•'  There  !  You  need  not  be  anxious  or  be 
come  excited.  I  know  ;  you  realized  how  much 
depends  on  this,  and  became  a  little  discour 
aged  and  fearful.  I  don't  want  you  to  feel  so  ; 
just  do  your  best.  If  you  fail,  surely  I  could 
not  blame  you.  But  you  will  not  fail.  You 
are  gloriously  equipped  for  the  wife  of  an  am 
bitious  man,"  in  a  tone  of  elation. 

He  is,  nevertheless,  preoccupied,  and  though 
he  still  clasps  her  hands,  the  pressure  has 
grown  very  slight,  and  indeed  her  hands  re 
main  in  his  only  because  she  holds  them  there. 
He  seems  to  forget  her,  and  is  studying  the 
carpet.  She  stands  looking  at  him.  Presently 
she  says: 

"  Kiss  me — will  you  ?  " 

He  stoops  and  brushes  her  forehead  lightly, 
with  his  lips.  She  lets  her  hands  fall  inertly 
at  her  side.  She,  too,  stands  studying  the 
carpet.  He  says,  brusquely: 

"  I  will  leave  you  now  and  let  you  finish 
dressing.  I  am  to  meet  Austin  at  the  Arling- 


2/2  JUGGERNAUT: 


ton  at  nine.  It  is  after  eight  now,"  looking  at 
his  watch  and  turning  hastily  to  the  door. 

"  I  shall  count  on  you,  Helen.  Things 
must  come  to  a  focus  to-night." 

She  stands  a  moment  looking  at  the  closed 
door  where  he  has  gone  out,  and  then  walks 
back  to  the  dressing-table.  She  stands  finger 
ing  some  of  the  manicure  apparatus  lying  on  it, 
disorderly,  with  the  rest  of  the  table's  con 
tents.  Once,  she  puts  her  hand  to  her  throat 
as  though  she  were  choking.  She  gets  a  sight 
of  her  face  in  the  mirror,  and  holds  her  breath 
for  an  instant.  She  is  ghastly.  There  are 
deep  rings  under  her  eyes.  She  nervously 
rubs  a  hare's  foot  over  her  cheeks,  and  they 
blush  a  little — for  the  evening. 

She  slowly  crosses  the  room  and  rings  her 
bell;  then  returns  to  her  chair  and  sits  down. 

Susanne  apears,  uncertain  in  manner,  in  the 
doorway. 

"You  may  finish  dressing  me,  Susanne." 

Susanne  looks  a  little  anxious,  and  sets 
about  her  business. 

Helen  attentively  watches  all  she  does. 
She  holds  out  one  of  her  small  feet  to  be  slip 
pered.  One  of  the  pair  brought  is  put  on. 
She  is  dissatisfied  and  demands  another  pair. 

Susanne  takes  Everet's  violets  from  the 
water,  and  fastens  them  on  her  corsage. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  273 

"Madame  is  finished." 

No,  oh  no,  she  is  not — not  for  two  hours 
yet. 

Helen  goes  slowly  down  the  stairs  ;  in  the 
hall  below  she  stops  a  moment  to  give  an 
instruction  to  a  servant  passing  through.  She 
speaks  in  her  natural  tone,  perhaps  a  little  more 
coldly  because  she  is  more  excited  than  usual. 
She  is  quivering.  She  passes  on  to  the  library. 
She  looks  about  the  room  reflectively.  She 
rings  the  bell.  The  servant  to  whom  she 
spoke  in  the  hall,  appears. 

"When  Mr.  Everet  comes,  ask  him  to  come 
in  here,  to  the  library.  Say  that  I  will  be 
down  in  a  moment.  You  understand  ?  He  is 
to  come  in  here  and  wait  for  me.  You  are  not 
to  shoiv  him  here — he  knows  the  way." 

The  man  bows  and  goes  from  the  room. 

She  looks  at  the  clock.  It  is  nearly  half- 
past  eight.  Everet  is  to  come  at  half-past. 

She  walks  to  the  cosy  chair  by  the  fire,  and 
stops  thoughtfully. 

She  turns  to  the  divan,  and  says  aloud: 

"  The  light  is  better  there.  It  is  more  effec 
tive." 

She  crosses  to  the  divan,  and  drawing  the 
cushions  together  in  a  fashion  that  pleases  her, 
sinks  into  them — half  sitting,  half  reclining. 
The  light  from  the  rose  lamp-shade  casts  a 


2  74  JUG  GERNA  UT: 


faint  glow  over  the  apartment.  She  looks 
across  the  room  to  her  reflection  in  the  long 
mirror  opposite.  She  scans  herself  critically, 
draws  another  cushion  under  her  arm,  and  leans 
her  head  on  her  hand.  She  adjusts  her  gown 
to  her  fancy,  and  her  attitude  is  perfect.  She 
is  apparently  satisfied  with  herself,  for  she 
remains  as  she  is.  Her  face  indicates  nothing. 

The  minutes  tick  by. 

Some  one  is  standing  in  the  doorway — she 
can  see  from  under  her  half-closed  lids  in  the 
glass  across  the  room. 

Everet  stands,  silently,  watching  her.  She 
is  evidently  asleep.  He  crosses  the  floor  softly 
and  stands  over  her. 

His  glance  takes  in  every  detail  of  the 
entrancing  picture  ;  the  whiteness  of  her  arm 
on  the  pale  blue  of  the  pillow ;  the  lace  petti 
coat  ;  the  half-exposed  foot  ;  the  curve  of  her 
neck. 

He  forgets  that  she  may  wake,  and  stands 
looking  at  her.  His  usually  pale  face  flushes 
slightly,  and  his  nervous  fingers  seem  a  little 
more  nervous  than  usual. 

The  woman  on  the  divan  wakes  at  the  right 
moment, — the  moment  could  not  have  been 
more  propitious  had  it  been  carefully  se 
lected. 

She  opens    her  eyes  dreamily  and  looks  at 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  2/5 

him.  Then,  with  a  little  start  of  confusion 
sits  erectv  and  murmurs  something  about  "the 
heat  of  the  room  and  the  drowsiness  of  the 
dim  light." 

Everet  is  still  flushed,  and  there  is  some 
emotion  in  his  voice. 

"  The  servant  told  me  to  await  you  here — 
that  you  were  not  down  yet." 

"  I  have  a  very  stupid  servant — I  always 
have  to  give  him  the  most  explicit  instructions  ; 
and  then  he  does  not  always  comprehend. 
Will  you  sit  here  by  the  fire?" 

They  draw  near  the  fire  together.  She  seats 
herself  on  a  low  ottoman  ;  he  sits  in  the  cozy 
chair. 

"  It  must  be  very  cold  to-night.  I  have 
shivered  all  the  afternoon,  notwithstanding  the 
hot  fire  wre  have  kept." 

She  leans  toward  him,  and  makes  an  attempt 
to  reach  the  scarf  she  threw  with  careful  care 
lessness  on  the  chair  when  she  entered  the 
room  a  while  ago.  She  is  compelled  to  lean 
very  near  him — and  yet  cannot  quite  reach 
it. 

He  places  it  about  her  shoulders — the  lace 
catches  on  a  pin  in  her  hair,  and  Everet  care 
fully  disentangles  it.  When  he  has  succeeded, 
he  makes  the  remark  that  she  is  not  well — that 
she  is  feverish.  She  laughs  a  little  nervously  : 


2/6  JUGGERNAUT: 


"  I — I  am  very  well." 

Her  tone  belies  her  words.  Everet  looks  at 
her  anxiously  : 

"  You  are  not  well.     Tell  me  what  it  is." 

He  lays  his  hand  over  hers.  Suddenly  there 
are  tears  in  her  eyes — at  the  same  time  she  is 
watching  him  furtively. 

"  What  is  it  ? — nothing — nothing  !  " 

"  There  is  something.  Something  is  annoy 
ing  you — troubling  you.  You  must  tell  me 
what  it  is." 

There  is  sudden  command  in  his  voice. 
She  clasps  her  hands.  Her  excitement  is 
intense,  but  she  does  not  forget  the  business 
in  hand  for  an  instant.  Even  when  she  clasps 
her  hands  in  an  excess  of  agitation,  she  remem 
bers  to  make  the  action  effective.  It  is  effective. 

"Helen," — he  speaks  under  his  breath, — 
"  I  want  to  know  what  troubles  you.  Has  it 
anything  to  do  with  business?  " 

She  starts  a  little. 

"  Has  it  anything  to  do  with  business 
affairs?" 

He  repeats  it. 

She  does  not  answer. 

"  Is  it  about  this  measure  Braine  is  working 
for  ?  " 

She  holds  her  breath  for  an  instant,  and 
then  slowly  nods. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  277 

Everet  looks  at  the  fire  thoughtfully: 

"  How  can  that  worry  you  ?  " 

"  Ed  is  anxious.  It  means —  Ah  !  "  throw 
ing  out  her  hands  with  a  helpless,  childish 
gesture,  "it  means  everything.  I  cannot  tell 
you  why  I  am  personally  anxious." 

"  I  understand  that  it  can  mean  much  to 
you  in  one  way — but  in  a  way  that  I  did  not 
suppose  was  of  any  moment  to  you.  I  under 
stand  all  it  means  to  Braine,  but  I  am  not  jn 
sympathy  with  it.  I  could  not  uphold  it — it  is 
a  dishonest  affair." 

He  looks  at  her.  Her  lips  are  pressed 
tightly  together.  Suddenly  she  says  in  a  de 
spairing  little  wail : 

"  Oh  !     it  don't  matter." 

"What?" 

"Whether  it  seems  dishonest  to  you  or  not. 
It  will  fall  through." 

"  Why?  "  looking  at  her  sharply. 

She  ignores  the  glance. 

"Why?"  impatiently.  "Why?  Because 
the  one  man  whose  approval  and  assistance  is 
needful  will  not  approve  nor  assist." 

A  pause.     "  Who  is  it  ?  "  watching  her. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  I  don't  know.  How  do  you 
suppose  I  know  ?  I  know  nothing  of  politics. 
I  hear  Ed  fret  and  look  anxious.  Now  and 
then  he  condescends  to  drop  a  word — but  I 


2/8  JUGGERNAUT: 


can't  understand  if  he  does.  I  don't  know 
who  it  is.  I  only  know  it  is  some  one." 

Everet  looks  back  at  the  fire.  She  has  not 
flinched  once.  She  speaks  with  the  ring  of 
truth  in  her  voice.  He  has  been  in  this 
woman's  society  almost  constantly  for  weeks, 
and  she  has  never  mentioned  anything  per 
taining  to  politics  or  "  business."  He  believes 
that  those  subjects  are  beyond  her  compre 
hension. 

He  looks  back  at  her.  He  wonders  if  it  is 
possible  that  Braine  has  not  told  her  that  he 
is  the  needful  man.  As  he  looks  at  her  sweet, 
troubled  face,  he  decides  that  it  is  possible  ; 
that  she  is  innocent. 

"  Would  you  like  to  know  the  man  ?  Would 
it  be  of  any  interest  to  you  ?  " 

She  turns  to  him  with  a  sudden  excited 
movement.  She  impulsively  lays  her  hand  on 
his  knee,  and  leans  lightly  against  him. 

"  Would  it  ?  Ah  !  I  would  go  to  him  ;  I 
would  say:  You  do  not  know  all  that  this 
means  to  me — how  madly  I  want  this  thing 
to  succeed.  I  would  implore  him  to  listen  to 
me.  I— 

Her  intensity  of  emotion  is  contagious,  and 
Everet  listens  to  her,  scarcely  comprehending 
her  words,  but  realizing  two  facts,  both  new 
to  him,  that  he  loves  this  woman,  and  has 


A    VEILED  RECORD  279 

loved  her  all  these  weeks  without  knowing  it, 
and  that  the  one  present,  overmastering  desire 
of  her  soul  is  to  accomplish  this  end  of  win 
ning  him  to  second  Braine's  scheme.  His  con 
science  would  forbid  if  it  were  awake,  but  his 
passion  for  this  woman — the  wife  of  his  friend 
— has  drugged  it  to  sleep. 

"  Helen,"  he  cries,  "  I  will  do  what  you 
ask.  I  would  do  anything,  everything  for  you. 
I  would  commit  a  crime,  if  you  did  but  ask  it. 
I  will  support  the  measure." 

"  You  will  do  this  for  me  ?  " 

"  For  you.  I  would  not  do  it  for  any  other 
in  the  world." 

"  Write  it  then — whatever  it  is.  Say  in 
writing  that  you  will  do  it,"  pushing  him  to 
her  open  desk. 

He  scribbles  a  few  lines  and  throws  down 
the  pen. 

"  You  have  done  this  for  me  ? "  she  asks 
again. 

"  For  you,  Helen." 

"  Then  I  am  yours." 

She  falls,  half  stifling,  into  his  arms,  and  he 
clumsily  tries  to  soothe  her  as  he  places  her  on 
the  divan,  and  kneels  beside  her. 

She  presently  says,  still  almost  frantically  : 

"  You  do  not  know  !  I  came  to  this  room 
to-night  with  one  deliberate  purpose — to  ac- 


280  JUGGERNAUT: 


complish  what  I  have  done;  to  compel  you  to 
support  this  measure.  I  have  loved  you  more 
and  more  every  day  of  these  last  weeks.  God 
forgive  me  !  I  could  not  help  it.  I  realized 
my  helplessness,  and  tried  to  keep  away  from 
you.  I  made  excuses.  I  was  ill,  incapable, 
anything.  I  tried  to  tell  him  the  truth.  If  he 
is  not  a  madman  he  must  have  known  my  con 
dition  and  my  attitude  toward  you.  He  did 
not  care.  He  wanted  success.  He  only  cared 
for  me  so  far  as  I  was  of  use  to  him  in  satisfy 
ing  his  ambition.  He  gave  no  thought  to  me. 
I  have  not  seen  him  more  than  once  in  twenty- 
four  hours  for  the  last  three  months,  and  that 
was  when  he  had  some  instruction  to  give  me. 
He  has  pushed  me  over  a  precipice.  Ah !  I 
am  mad,  starving  for  that  which  he  denies  me 
— affection.  He  thinks  of  me  as  a  machine  to 
do  his  work  ;  with  no  feeling,  no  emotion, 
nothing  human  about  me.  I  have  tried  to  do 
my  duty.  I  did  not  forget  myself  until  I  had 
accomplished  his  work.  Now — now — no  mat 
ter  !" 

She  buries  her  face  in  the  pillows  of  the 
divan,  while  Everet  looks  on  appalled. 

Some  one  stands  between  the  portieres. 
Helen  staggers  to  her  feet.  Everet  involun 
tarily  puts  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 


A   VEILED  RECORD. 


Braine  comes  slowly  to  the  middle  of  the 
room.  His  face  is  livid.  He  stops.  He  artic 
ulates  hoarsely : 

"  Take  away  your  hand  1 " 

Everet  does  not  move,  but  looks  Braine  in 
the  face.  Helen  leans  heavily  against  him. 
She  is  fainting,  perhaps. 

Braine  stands  motionless  a  moment,  with 
his  hands  clenched.  He  makes  a  sudden 
move  toward  the  pair.  He  is  trembling  with 
fury.  He  raises  his  clenched  fist.  Helen 
rises  and  steps  toward  him.  She  seems  sud 
denly  to  have  recovered  herself.  She  says  in 
a  strange,  tense  voice  : 

"Stop!" 

Braine  takes  a  step  backward — it  is  some 
thing  in  her  face  that  prompts  the  action. 

She  stands  looking  at  him  a  moment.  The 
room  is  very  still  : 

"  I  love  this  man.     I  am  disloyal." 

She  crosses  the  room  with  a  swift  move 
ment,  and  catches  from  the  desk  the  paper 
Everet  has  written  on.  She  holds  it  out : 

"  He  has  taken  me  from  you.  In  return — 
we  give  you  this." 

She  holds  out  the  paper.  Braine  is  staring 
at  her  stupidly,  and  does  not  take  it.  She 
drops  it  at  his  feet.  She  is  very  quiet  in  her 
manner  and  tone,  but  she  is  intense. 


282  JUGGERNAUT: 

Everet  is  suffocating.  Both  men  watch  her 
in  a  kind  of  dream.  She  goes  on  swiftly  : 

"  I  have  done  what  I  could  for  you.  A  rea 
sonable  man  would  be  quite  satisfied  ;  I  pre 
sume  you  will  be  ;  but  my  usefulness,  so  far  as 
you  are  concerned,  is  at  an  end.  I  have  lived 
for  you  these  last  years — now  I  am  going 
to  live  for  myself.  I  am  going  away  with 
this  man.  Have  you  anything  to  say?" 

A  pause,  during  which  they  hear  every 
little  sound  in  the  house  and  in  the  streets. 

Finally,  Braine  comes  toward  her.  He 
stretches  out  his  hands  appealingly  : 

11  Helen—" 

His  voice  sounds  strange  and  hollow.  She 
does  not  move.  She  says  : 

"  Go  on." 

He  repeats  again  : 

"  Helen—" 

He  stops  again  ;  then  suddenly  staggers 
against  the  wall.  He  moans  : 

"  Oh,  my  God  !  " 

She  does  not  speak.  Everet  is  under  a 
spell.  Even  the  shadows  cast  by  the  chairs 
seem  to  grin  grotesquely. 

Braine  tries  to  recover  himself : 

"  Helen  !  on  my  knees  I  implore  you  to  for 
give  me.  I  see  it  all — the  fault  is  mine.  You 
are  justified ;  but  you  are  mad.  You  don't 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  283 


know  what  you  say.  I  love  you  !  Oh  God  ! 
I  have  never  loved  you  as  I  do  this  moment. 
Come  back  to  me.  I  will  forgive — 

"  Forgive  !  " 

The  pose  of  her  head  is  regal. 

Braine  staggers  toward  her,  and  drops  on  his 
knees.  For  an  instant,  there  is  a  faint  glow  of 
tenderness  in  her  face,  but  it  flits  across  and 
does  not  stay.  There  is  an  added  coldness  in 
the  iciness  of  her  tone  : 

"  I  understand  that  I  am  not  without  value 
— as  a  wifely  politician.  I  understand  that 
you  will  suffer  some  inconvenience  in  my  loss. 
I  trust  you  can  fill  the  vacant  situation  in  time. 
I  must  resign — or  perhaps  '  give  warning,'  is 
the  proper  phrase.  I  go,  at  once." 

She  turns  to  Everet.  He  mechanically  takes 
the  hand  she  is  stretching  to  him.  She  now 
ignores  Braine.  She  loses  her  calm.  She 
hur.ries  toward  the  door,  drawing  Everet  with 
her. 

Braine  follows.  He  is  trying  desperately  to 
speak.  His  tongue  refuses  to  obey  his  will. 
He  can  only  utter  some  incoherent,  inarticu 
late  sounds.  But  the  situation  is  perfectly 
clear  to  him.  With  a  force  that  is  rendering 
him  powerless  and  dumb,  every  incident  in  the 
last  five  years  is  crowding  upon  his  memory  : 
his  preoccupation  ;  his  mad  struggle  for  power 


2  84  JUGGERNA  UT: 


and  political  supremacy ;  his  persistent  re 
quirements  of  this  woman,  who,  he  did  not 
know,  needed  love  instead  of  position  ;  this 
woman,  who  starved  on  ambition,  and  cried 
for  tenderness  and  affection  ;  this  woman  he 
has  loved  better  than  honor — for  has  not  she 
been  uppermost  in  his  mind  when  planning  for 
advancement  ?  She  is  leaving  him  !  She  is 
already  unfaithful  !  She  is  gathering  about 
her  the  wrap  she  has  snatched  from  the  hall- 
stand. 

Everet  is  mechanically  helping  her.  She 
opens  the  door.  Everet's  carriage  is  waiting 
for  him  at  the  foot  of  the  steps.  She  has  for 
gotten  Braine.  She  grasps  Everet's  arm  con 
vulsively,  and  hurries  down  to  the  street.  The 
door  of  Everet's  brougham  closes  behind  them 
and  the  carriage  moves  rapidly  away. 

Braine  is  staring  into  the  dark.  The  stupe 
fied  servant  touches  him  on  the  arm  : 

"  Your  breath  is  freezing  on  your  mustache, 
sir." 

"Is  it?" 

Matters  have  '  come  to  a  focus/  at  the  time 
he  appointed. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  28; 


XXXIII. 

HELEN  sits  erect  in  the  carriage,  her  lips 
pressed  tightly  together,  her  hands  clasped  in 
her  lap. 

Everet  is  very  pale,  and  still  seems  to  be  act 
ing  half-irresponsibly.  He  watches  her  face. 
There  is  no  change  in  its  expression.  He  can 
draw  no  conclusion  from  it.  Presently  he 
touches  her  hand : 

"  Helen." 

She  turns  her  face  and  looks  at  him.  There 
is  no  inquiry  in  the  expression.  It  is  merely 
an  action  indicating  that  she  has  heard 
him. 

He  pauses.  After  a  moment,  he  asks  in  a 
low  tone  : 

"  Where  do  you  want  to  go  ?  " 

An  expression  of  surprise  flits  across  her  face 
for  a  moment. 

Everet  looks  out  of  the  window.  After  a 
moment  : 


2  86  JUGGERNA  UT: 


"  Where  ?     To  your  rooms." 

"  You  are  acting  under  a  great  strain  and  ex 
citement  now,  Helen.  Would  it  not  be  bet 
ter  to  wait  a  little,  until  you  can  think  more 
calmly  ?  Suppose  I  take  you  to  the  Arlington, 
and  you  remain  there  to-night.  In  the  morn 
ing,  whatever  decision  you  have  reached  shall 
be  carried  out.  Would  not  that  be  better, 
dear?  " 

"  You  do  not  want  me  to  go  with  you  ?" 

She  speaks  monotonously.  He  does  not  re 
ply.  She  repeats  it  : 

"  You  do  not  want  me  to  go  with  you  ?  " 

Everet  slips  his  arm  about  her.  There  is 
something  pitiful  about  this  woman  sitting  by 
him  so  white,  and  speaking  in  so  hard  a 
tone. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  want  you.  I  was  only  think 
ing  of  you.  I  would  have  you  do  nothing  you 
will  repent,  that  is  all.  I — 

"  I  am  going  to  your  rooms.  I  have  de 
cided." 

Still  the  same  expressionless  voice. 

Everet  lowers  the  window,  and  calls  to  the 
coachman  : 

"  Go  home." 

He  then  puts  the  window  up  again,  and  re 
sumes  his  erect  attitude  and  the  study  of  the 
face  of  the  woman  beside  him.  He  feels  as 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  2 87 

though  he  were  acting  in  his  sleep.  All  has 
occurred  so  quickly. 

Helen's  face  seems  to  have  changed  in  the 
last  hour.  The  expression  that  has  seemed  to 
him  one  of  innocence  and  helplessness,  is  im 
pressing  him  now  as  one  of  determination  and 
perhaps  calculation.  He  is  suddenly  recalling 
many  details  of  their  acquaintance  which  coin 
cide  with  this  new  impression  she  is  producing 
— but  she  is  a  beautiful  woman.  Nothing  can 
change  that  fact. 

They  do  not  speak  again  until  they  have 
reached  Everet's  rooms. 

Everet  opens  the  door  with  his  latch-key, 
and  Helen  passes  in  as  he  holds  the  door  open 
for  her.  She  stands  quite  still  in  the  centre  of 
the  room,  abstractedly. 

Everet  turns  the  gas  higher  and  stirs  the 
fire  in  the  grate.  He  goes  about  the  rooms 
apparently  taking  no  direct  notice  of  her,  for  a 
moment,  feeling  a  certain  humiliation  for  her 
and  himself  in  the  situation. 

She  still  stands  with  her  wraps  on,  and 
finally  Everet  comes  to  her.  He  takes  her 
hands  in  his.  He  says  gently  : 

"  Helen,  you  do  not  regret  ?  " 

She  lifts  her  eyes  and  looks  at  him  inquiringly: 

"  Regret  ?  Why  should  I  regret  ?  I  have 
your  love  ?  " 


288  JUGGERNA  UT: 


Everet  catches  his  lip  between  his  teeth. 
He  replies  hoarsely: 

"Yes." 

"  Then  why  should  I  regret  ?  " 

She  unfastens  her  cloak,  and  it  slips  to  the 
floor,  leaving  her  in  evening  dress,  with  white 
bare  neck  and  arms.  There  is  a  difference  in 
the  atmosphere.  Her  own  house  is  a  degree 
warmer  than  Everet's  rooms. 

He  notices  the  tremor  that  seizes  her,  and 
throws  her  fur  cape  about  her  shoulders.  He 
takes  her  hand  and  leads  her  to  a  chair  by  the 
fire.  He  places  her  gently  in  it,  and  stands 
by  the  side  of  her.  After  a  moment  he 
says : 

"  I  want  to  think  for  you,  dear,  if  you  will 
let  me.  Whatever  I  say,  remember  it  is  for 
your  own  good,  because  I — I  love  you.  You 
have  become  so  unhappy  that  you  are  not 
responsible  just  now  for  your  actions.  I  want 
to  put  things  before  you  plainly.  You  are 
here,  in  my  rooms  to-night — but  you  can  return 
home  and  no  one  will  be  the  wiser.  You  are  a 
woman  prominent  in  society.  Your  husband's 
name  is  famous  throughout  the  country.  No 
breath  of  calumny  has  ever  touched  you.  If 
you  remain  with  me,  it  will  be  known  from 
here  to  San  Francisco  within  forty-eight  hours. 
Then,  regrets  will  be  useless.  You  will  have 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  289 

lost  everything  forever  but — my  love  ;  home, 
position,  fortune,  everything  that  is  essential  to 
the  happiness  of  such  a  woman  as  you.  You 
can  return  to-night,  no  one — 

"  Every  one  knows,"  in  a  hard  tone — "  my 
servant  witnessed  all — every  one  knows." 

Everet  is  silent  a  moment.  Then  he  speaks 
slowly  : 

"  Well,  if  that  be  true,  at  least  you  have 
nothing  to  reproach  yourself  for,  yet.  Though 
they  know,  you  will  have  the  knowledge  that 
you  are  an — honorable  woman  if  you  return  at 
once — 

She  stops  him  with  a  gesture  : 

"What  is  that  to  me?  The  world  will  not 
know  it.  What  I  have  done  is  irrevocable, 
I  tell  you.  I  have  been  in  your  rooms  for 
fifteen  minutes,  and  three  people  beside  our 
selves  know  it, — your  servant,  and  mine,  and 
my  husband.  It  is  possible  that  I  might  have 
done  differently  if  I  had  been  a  little  more 
deliberate, — I  think  not,  but  it  is  possible. 
However,  I  was  not  more  deliberate — and 
there  is  nothing  to  be  done.  When  a  woman 
scorns  conventionalities  as  I  do,  all  is  over." 

She  speaks  proudly.     She  is  in  earnest. 

Everet  feels  a  sudden  tenderness  and  com 
passion  for  this  strange  woman  who  speaks 
with  such  conviction  of  her  scorn  for  conven- 


2QO  JUGGERN'A  UT: 


tionalitics  when  her  respect  and  reverence  for 
them  is  what  is  about  to  ruin  her  and  deprive 
her  of  all  peace. 

The  mere  thought  that  she  has  stepped 
aside  never  so  little  from  the  beaten  path  has 
paralyzed  her  capacity  of  reasoning,  and  she 
will  wander  about  in  the  wood  forever,  having 
lost  the  power  to  find  her  way  back. 

He  has  done  what  he  could.  Now  he 
stands  staring  at  the  fire.  After  a  moment  he 
feels  a  soft  hand  on  his.  Helen  is  looking  at 
him  with  appealing  eyes.  She  murmurs  like 
a  grieved  little  child  : 

"I  have  nothing  but  you  now.  If  you  do 
not  fail  me,  I  shall  not  miss  the  rest." 

He  stoops  and  clasps  her  in  his  arms. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  29 1 


XXXIV. 

BRAINE  rings  his  bell  and  sends  the  envel 
ope  he  has  been  addressing.  Woolet  "answers 
the  bell  and  takes  the  note.  Braine  says 
laconically  : 

"  Send  by  messenger." 

Woolet  leaves  the  room — his  master's  man 
ner  is  oppressive.  The  silence  of  the  house  is 
oppressive.  Ruin  and  catastrophe  seem  to 
pervade  the  atmosphere.  The  sombre  look 
ing  clock  on  the  mantel  strikes  solemnly. 

Helen's  dog  sits  dejectedly  by  the  fire,  now 
and  then  going  to  Braine  and  poking  its  nose 
into  his  hand.  Braine  watches  it  mechani 
cally.  He  has  not  left  his  seat  since  last  night 
at  ten  o'clock.  The  room  looks  neglected, 
as  all  rooms  look  if  not  lived  in  for  twenty- 
four  hours. 

He  has  sat  silently  in  his  chair  during  all 
these  hours,  with  his  arms  on  the  desk  before 
him,  and  his  head  on  his  arms.  Now  he  looks 


2Q2  JUGGERNAUT: 


calmly  about  the  room.  On  a  chair  is  Helen's 
scarf.  He  rises  and  going  over  to  it  picks  it 
up.  It  breathes  the  perfume  peculiar  to  the 
woman.  He  folds  it  in  his  hands  and  carries 
it  about  the  room  as  he  moves  aimlessly  here 
and  there.  Her  handkerchief  is  under  a  chair. 
He  takes  that  up  and  carries  it  about  with 
the  scarf.  Helen's  dog  follows  at  his  heels. 

Braine's  face  is  ghastly.  There  are  great 
rings  under  his  eyes,  and  furrows  in  his  cheeks 
that  were  not  there  last  night.  He  pauses 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  A  scene  of  long 
ago  comes  vividly  to  him.  A  little  dingy 
office,  in  a  far  off  Western  town  ;  an  "  edito 
rial  sanctum  ;  "  a  little  half  rusty,  half  white 
washed  stove  set  in  its  box  of  sand  ;  grimy 
walls  ;  a  man  at  a  rickety  desk  with  improvised 
pigeon-holes  of  collar  boxes.  Not  a  very  in 
spiring  picture  ?  Well,  no,  but  he  would  give 
his  house  with  its  art  treasures,  his  fame,  his 
wealth,  for  that  little  dingy  office,  with  its 
obscurity — and  Helen.  Helen,  with  the  sunny 
eyes.  Helen,  with  the  hair  where  you  sought 
for  missing  sunbeams ;  Helen's  heart,  that 
sought  for  nothing — because  it  was  satisfied 
with  what  it  had  found.  Helen,— the  lost 
Helen! 

He  goes  to  the  desk  and  looks  among  some 
old  papers.  He  shades  his  eyes  with  his 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  293 

hand — though  the  light  is  not  strong.  He 
pulls  out  a  long-folded  newspaper  clipping 
that  reads  : 

"  There  died  in  this  town  to-day,  a  young 
man  much  esteemed  by  his  fellow-citizens," 
etc.,  and  as  he  finishes  and  lays  it  by,  some 
thing  near  him  mutters,  "Juggernaut !" 

He  sits  staring  into  the  dead  fire — no  one 
has  dared  intrude  upon  him  to  replenish  it. 

After  a  time  there  is  a  knock  on  the  door. 
Braine  calls:  "  Come  in." 

He  does  not  move.  Everet  comes  to  the 
fireplace  and  stands  silently  waiting  till  he 
shall  speak. 

Braine  looks  at  him  and  rising,  says  slowly : 

"  Good  evening — Everet.  You  will  be 
seated?  " 

The  poor  voice  trembles  in  its  effort  at 
courtesy  and  usualness.  Everet  sits.  He 
says,  after  a  moment : 

"You  wanted  me,  Braine?" 

His  tone  is  kind,  and  trembles  a  little  too. 
This  handsome,  dignified  statesman  is  a  sor 
rowful  sight  to  see. 

"  Yes.  It  was  kind  of  you  to  come,"  with 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  black  grate. 

Everet  glances  at  the  little  crumpled  bunch 
held  so  tightly  in  the  man's  hands. 

Braine  seems  to  recover  himself  with  an  effort, 


294  fUGGERNA  UT: 

and  tries  to  speak  formally ;  this  is  more 
pitiful  than  before.  He  says  evenly,  as  though 
repeating  a  lesson  : 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  would  come.  I 
felt  that  it  was  better  to  see  you  first — I 
thought — I  thought — 

He  pauses  and  looks  helplessly  at  Everet. 
Evidently  he  cannot  keep  the  thread  of  his 
ideas. 

Everet  says  quietly : 

"  You  thought  I  could  tell  you  about— 
Helen — your  wife  ?  Perhaps — advise  you  ?  " 

Braine  nods. 

"That  is  a  strange  thing  to  expect  of  me, 
under  the  circumstances." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  in  an  apathetic  tone;  "I 
know — but  these  are  not  ordinary  circum 
stances.  You — you  were  not  to  blame — 

Everet  suddenly  stretches  out  his  hand. 
There  is  an  eagerness  in  his  tone.  He  says  : 

"  Thank   you     for   that,    Braine.       I  —  I— 
He  pauses. 

Braine  continues : 

"  No,  you  were  not  to  blame — nor  she — • 
Oh,  Everet !  "  rising  and  speaking  excitedly, 
"  she  was  not  to  blame.  You  do  not  know. 
She  is  as  good  as  the  angels.  The  crime  is 
mine.  Though  she  sank  to  the  gutter,  mine 
would  be  the  responsibility,  not  her's.  Six 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  295 

months  ago  she  was  as  true  in  thought  and 
deed  as  a  child.  I  forced  her  to  this.  I — I— 
I " 

He  lays  his  head  on  the  mantel,  and  sobs 
shake  him  from  head  to  foot.  No  one  cares  to 
see  a  strong  man  weep.  Everet  walks  to  the 
window  and  stands,  doing  something  with  his 
handkerchief. 

Braine  becomes  quiet.  Everet  crosses  to 
him,  and  lays  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Braine," — he  speaks  in  a  deep,  earnest 
voice, — "  God  only  knows  how  I  have  suffered 
in  twenty-four  hours.  My  suffering  has  been 
small  compared  with  yours,  but  it  has  been 
enough.  There  is  nothing  to  explain.  All  is 
as  clear  to  me  as  the  day.  You  think  I  should 
feel  contempt  for  you?  I  cannot  feel  that, 
though  your  crime  has  been  against  me  too, — 
and  you  will  never  know  how  great  it  was  until 
you  know  how  I  believed  in  and  revered  the 
woman  who  wrought  for  you.  I  feel  nothing 
but  the  deepest  pity  for  you.  Since  the  first 
time  I  heard  your  name  in  connection  with 
the  great  schemes  of  the  West,  I  have  rever 
enced  your  ability,  though  not  always  the 
account  you  turned  it  to — as  in  this  dicker 
with  the  whiskey  ring.  But  that  you  are  a 
great  man  and  a  great  statesman — not  politi 
cian,  statesman — your  bitterest  enemies  must 


296  JUGGERNAUT: 


admit.  I  am  an  ambitious  man.  I  cannot 
say,  nor  prove  even  to  myself  that  I  would 
not  have  done  as  you  have  done,  had  I  had 
the  power,  the  ability.  I  think  now  that  I 
would  not — but  perhaps  that  is  because  I  know 
that  I  cannot.  If  you  have  done  dishonorable 
things,  you  have  also  done  great  things.  If 
you  have  toiled  for  yourself,  you  have  also 
toiled  for  others.  You  have  been  a  power  for 
good.  Last  night  I  pleaded  with  your  wife, 
Helen,  to  return  here.  She  refused.  I  im 
plored  her  to  go  to  a  hotel  until  the  day  came, 
and  she  could  think  more  collectedly.  She 
said  :  '  Do  you  mean  that  you  do  not  want 
me?'  I  took  this  woman  to  my  home.  She 
was  weak,  sorrowful,  undone.  I  am  a  man — 
I  have  loved  her — nay,  I  do  love  her — you 
could  not  expect  me  to  do  differently.  To 
day,  at  the  risk  of  wounding  her,  I  proposed 
that  she  let  me  make  some  other  arrangement 
for  her.  She  would  not  listen.  Her  will  must 
be  mine.  I  am  ready  to  give  you  any  satisfac 
tion  you  demand." 

Braine  makes  a  gesture  of  his  hand.  He 
says  hoarsely : 

"  I  have  committed  crimes  enough.  There 
could  be  no  satisfaction  for  me — except  to 
kill  you — and —  He  looks  in  Everet's 
face  and  finishes — "  I  should  be  taking 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  297 

the  life  of  one  of  the  few  men  I  can  re 
spect." 

Everet  takes  his  hand,  and  these  two  men, 
strangely  enough,  make  a  silent  compact  of 
brotherhood,  never  to  be  broken — and  one  of 
them  has  taken  the  other's  wife.  But  strange 
things  happen  in  this  complex  world  of  ours. 

Everet  says  in  a  gratified  voice  : 

"  I  am  forever  in  your  debt  for  the  weight 
you  take  from  my  heart.  All  night,  all  day 
the  expression  of  your  face  last  night  has  fol 
lowed  me.  I  have  had  no  happiness  for  think 
ing  of  your  grief." 

Braine  is  now  and  then  shaken  by  a  nervous 
thrill.  He  says  : 

"May  I  go  to  her?" 

Everet  looks  at  him  fora  moment,  then  says 
slowly : 

"  It  would  do  no  good,  Braine.  She  is  ob 
durate.  She  will  never  return  to  you,  and  I 
could  not  receive  you  unless  she  wished  it. 
You  understand  me,  do  you  not  ?  She  is  now 
under  my  roof  and  my  protection.  I  must  re 
spect  her  wishes.  I  must  protect  her  even 
against  her  husband,  if  she  commands — until 
her  husband  take  measures  to  punish  me. 
You  understand,  do  you  not?" 

Braine  looks  a  little  dazed. 

"Yes,  I  understand." 


298  JUGGERNAUT: 


He  speaks  so  hopelessly  that  Everet's  face 
contracts  with  sympathy  and  pain.  He  pro 
poses  : 

"  You  might  write  to  her,  Braine.  I  could 
not  take  it,  you  know.  But  I  will  be  there 
when  she  receives  it.  I  will  prevail  upon  her 
to  read  it,  should  she  refuse." 

Every  word  that  is  spoken  only  in  kindness 
and  from  the  heart,  cuts  Braine  like  a  knife. 
He  feels  no  jealousy,  that  this  grave  friend  has 
an  influence  over  his  wife  which  he  no  longer 
possesses,  but  the  thought  hurts  terribly. 

He  grasps  eagerly  at  the  suggestion. 

Everet  says  as  Braine  begins  to  write  : 

"  I  will  go  now,  Braine.  Send  the  note  at 
once  by  the  messenger — and — 

He  hesitates.     Braine  looks  wistfully  at  him. 

Everet  comes  close  to  him.  He  says,  in  a 
solemn,  impressive  tone  : 

"  From  this  hour,  your  wife's  honor  shall  be 
as  sacred  to  me  as  it  is  to  you.  I  will  protect 
her,  even  against  myself,  though  she  remain  in 
my  house.  And  I  do  this — not  for  her,  but 
for  you." 

He  leaves  the  room  before  Braine  can  speak. 

Braine  says  under  his  breath  :  "  This  is  more 
than  I  deserve." 

He  writes : 

"  Helen  :  " — then    sits   staring   at  the  word. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  299 

"  I  dare  not  come  to  you  until  you  send  for 
me.  I  throw  myself  at  your  feet,  and  implore 
you  to  forgive  me.  So  miserable  a  man  as  I 
does  not  live.  Helen,  child,  wife  of  my  heart, 
who  has  known  the  good  of  my  life  as  well  as 
the  bad,  come  back  to  me.  My  life  from  this 
hour  shall  attest  my  love  for  you,  my  sorrow 
and  repentance.  Helen,  by  the  memories  of 
those  first  years,  when  we  lived  but  one  for 
the  other,  I 'implore  you.  We  will  go  away 
together.  I  forswear  this  life  forever.  I 
have  wealth.  My  last  penny  shall  be  used  for 
your  happiness.  The  world  is  all  before  us. 
Command,  and  your  least  wish  shall  be  ful 
filled.  My  sin  is  great,  my  punishment  is 
more  than  I  can  bear.  Come  back,  sweet  wife, 
and  help  me  by  your  presence,  your  word  of 
approval,  to  right  my  terrible  wrong  if  I  can. 
Oh,  Helen,  the  memory  of  those  days  filled 
with  your  love  and  goodness  crowd  upon  me, 
making  my  despair  more  hopeless  ;  making  my 
loneliness  grimmer.  That  which  you  have 
longed  for  shall  be  yours.  No  more  of  this 
hurry  and  striving!  No  more  of  this  frenzied 
living  !  Come  back,  Helen,  wife,  come  back — 

The  pen  slips  from  his  fingers.  The  paper 
is  all  blotted  with  his  tears.  He  rings  the 
bell,  and  hands  the  message  through  the  door. 
It  is  gone.  And  now  he  waits. 


300  JUGGERNAUT: 


He  goes  to  the  seat  by  the  dead  fire.  He 
waits  with  Helen's  neglected  things  in  his 
hands — with  Helen's  dog  at  his  feet. 

An  hour  goes  by,  and  still  he  waits — a  little 
longer,  and  a  note  is  handed  through  the  door. 

His  note — unopened. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  30! 


XXXV. 

"  THEN  you  refuse  to  accept  it?"  Everet  is 
speaking. 

"Yes.  I  refuse."  Helen  speaks  decisively 
and  walks  away  to  the  window. 

"  Helen." 

Everet  comes  close  to  her.  He  speaks  hesi 
tatingly. 

"You  know  that  I  am  your  true  friend, 
that  when  I  urge  this  upon  you  it  is  through 
no  lack  of  desire  on  my  part  to  supply  you  with 
all  your  heart  could  wish.  You  know  that 
when  I  urged  you  to  return  to  Braine,  I  thought 
of  your  happiness.  You  know  this.  As  long 
as  you  are  satisfied,  this  house  and  everything 
in  it  is  yours,  and  all  your  wishes  shall  be  ful 
filled  so  far  as  I  am  able  to  do  it ;  but  I  feel 
that  there  is  a  day  coming  when  you  will  not 
be  satisfied,  living  in  this  way  ;  and  then — in 
money  will  be  your  only  hope.  I  must  speak 
plainly,  dear.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I  en- 


302  JUGGERNA  UT: 


treat  you  to  accept  this  provision  which  Braine 
offers.  All  that  I  have  is  at  your  disposal,  but 
I  have  little  in  comparison  with  the  wealth 
Braine  wishes  to  place  in  your  hands." 

She  turns  and  looks  at  him.  She  says 
slowly  : 

"  I  do  not  want  your  wealth,  or  his.  I  want 
what  you  will  not  give  me — love.  Wealth 
will  not  take  its  place.  If  you  cannot  give  me 
that,  there  is  but  one  thing  that  can  in  any  de 
gree  make  it  up  to  me — power.  One  or  the 
other  I  must  have.  One  or  the  other  must 
help  me  to  forget  my  ruined  life — the  life  that 
he  has  ruined,  and  now  thinks  to  pay  for  with 
money." 

"  You  are  wrong.  He  has  sinned,  but  if 
ever  a  human 'being  suffered  and  has  tried  to 
rectify'  his  mistakes,  he  is  the  one.  He  has 
implored  you  to  return.  You  have  refused  all 
overtures.  You  have  returned  his  letters 
unopened.  You  have  been  unwilling  to  lis 
ten— 

"Listen?  You  talk  like  a  child.  This  man 
has  done  me  the  greatest  wrong  that  a  woman 
ever  suffered.  These  last  two  months  with 
him  have  been  one  great  insult,  one  monstrous 
indignity  and  affront.  Listen?  It  is  too  late. 
Once  I  begged  him  to  listen  to  me.  I  humili 
ated  myself  before  him,  begging  for  one  little 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  303 

expression  of  love — the  next  morning  he 
mocked  me.  It  is  too  late." 

And  Everet  knows  that  she  speaks  the 
truth. 

He  says  sorrowfully : 

"Very  well.  You  cannot  return  to  him? 
Then  be  merciful,  let  him  make  the  little  rep 
aration  in  his  power.  Accept  this  money  from 
him." 

She  shakes  her  head  : 

"  Never  !  " 

Then,  with  a  burst  of  emotion,  "  Why  do  you 
torment  me  in  this  way?  Once  you  would 
have  given  half  your  life  for  my  favor  ;  now  you 
are  as  unresponsive  as  a  block  of  wood." 

Everet's  face  grows  troubled  : 

"  Not  so,"  he  says  ;  "  don't  accuse  me  of 
this,  Helen.  Don't  call  me  unresponsive.  You 
are  very  dear  to  me — but  I  may  not  have  you 
for  my  wife,  and  I  cannot  accept  you  in  another 
relation.  I  cannot  do  that.  My  position  has 
been  a  terrible  one.  I  don't  think  you  can 
understand— 

"  His  crime  was  directed  toward  you — 

"  And  do  you  not  see  that  this  compels  me 
to  be  generous  ?  I  cannot  do  that  thing.  This 
man  has  discovered  his  wrong  and  is  repentant. 
I  should  be  a  dog  if  I  refused  to  recognize  the 
fact.  He  has  converted  everything  he  pos- 


304  JUGGERNAUT: 


sesses  in  the  world  into  money,  and  begs  you  to 
accept  it.  He  leaves  his  home,  and  takes  him 
self  away  from  his  fellows  to  live — this  man 
who  has  swayed  thousands  with  his  eloquence, 
who  has  commanded  the  homage  of  all  the 
country,  who  has  held  the  affairs  of  the  nation 
in  his  hands.  This  man  has  humbled  himself, 
has  forsworn  it  all,  has  buried  his  strength  and 
his  greatness  and  his  talents  in  a  little  forsaken 
wilderness.  God  !  I  am  an  honor-loving  man  ; 
I  despise  his  crime,  and  my  own  ;  and  yet,  I 
doubt  if  I  should  be  great  enough  for  this. 
After  all, he  was  guilty  of  nothing  but  what  his 
associates  are  guilty  of  every  day  of  their  lives, 
and  will  continue  in  uninterruptedly  and  with 
less  excuse  ;  the  difference— that  one  has  met 
with  retribution  and  the  others  have  not.  To 
day  I  have  more  respect  and  reverence  for  this 
man  who  has  been  overtaken  and  repents,  than 
for  Grayson  who  has  braved  it  through  and  is 
about  to  step  into  his  place — 

"  He  would  not  be  repenting  in  sackcloth 
and  ashes  if  he  had  not  been  overtaken." 

There  is  a  touch  of  wormwood  in  her 
voice. 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  he  is  repenting,  with  an 
humbler  repentance  than  I  believe  even  the 
Lord  cares  to  accept." 

Helen's  eyes  gleam  a  little,  and  her  lips  are 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  305 

firmly  pressed  together.  Everet's  defence  of 
the  man  who  has  tried  to  wrong  him,  and 
whom  she  has  loved,  cannot  convince  her. 

After  a  time  Everet  rises  to  go.  He  holds 
her  hands  in  his  for  a  moment  : 

"  You  are  decided  ?  " 

"  Decided." 

Everet  says  good  night.  Helen  turns  wea 
rily  back  into  the  pretty  rooms.  She  looks 
about,  almost  contemptuously.  Her  face  is 
not  the  face  of  the  Helen  of  six  months  ago. 
To-night  it  expresses  weariness,  hopefessness, 
bitterness,  longing.  She  clasps  her  hands  a 
little  wildly.  She  has  not  found  what  she 
sought.  Since  the  night  in  Everet's  house,  he 
has  been  the  friend,  not  the  lover.  The  old 
life  sometimes  comes  over  her  as  it  has  to 
night.  The  old  sweet  life,  the  old  sweet  love 
—and  yet,  the  old  love  would  not  satisfy  her 
now,  if  it  must  be  linked  with  the  old  life. 
That  is  an  unacknowledged  reason  for  her 
obduracy.  Love  without  money  ?  Ye's.  Love 
without  power,  excitement,  intrigue  ?  No.  If 
this  has  poisoned  all  her  days,  yet  it  is  a  deli 
cious  poison. 

At  times  she  is  consumed  with  a  sense  of 
the  mortification  and  indignity  of  those  last 
months  with  Braine.  She  feels  a  bitter  desire 
for  some  sort  of  revenue.  What  would  she 


306  JUGGERNA  UT: 

have  known  of  longing  and  ambition,  and 
falsehood  and  madness,  but  for  him  ? 

She  has  fallen  into  a  morbid  state.  She 
now  sees  no  one.  She  is  without  the  social 
pale  of  her  old  acquaintance  among  whom  she 
ruled.  The  thing  for  which  she  has  been  in 
training  for  years  is  denied  her.  That  which 
nature  intended  her  for — the  life  of  a  loving 
woman — has  been  made  tasteless  to  her.  Her 
natural  appetite  is  ruined  ;  her  acquired  taste  is 
ungratified.  She  thinks : 

"Could  I  be  occupied!  Could  I  forget,  a 
little  while !  " 

She  throws  herself  upon  the  divan  with  a 
little  moan.  She  lies  so  for  an  hour,  perhaps. 
A  card  is  brought  her — she  reads  "  Dalzcl." 

She  rises  with  a  curious  expression  on  her 
face.  She  stands  expectant. 

An  hour  later  as  he  is  leaving,  he  says: 

"  Of  all  the  women  able  to  accomplish  the 
thing,  you  are  the  best  fitted."  And  watching 
him  go,  she  thinks  : 

"  This  is  the  clever  man  who  was  cleverer 
than  my  friend.  What  better  incentive  could 
a  woman  want?  " 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  307 


XXXVI. 

"WELL,  dear  fellow,  I'm  glad  to  be  with 
you." 

Braine  turns  to  him  with  the  grave,  sad 
smile  that  is  now  the  only  smile  his  face 
knows.  He  walks  slowly.  There  is  none  of 
the  energy  and  spring  in  his  step  that  belonged 
to  Braine  the  statesman.  The  face  is  still 
handsome — it  will  always  be  that.  No  expres 
sion  can  entirely  change  his  features,  but  it  is 
a  sombre  face.  His  figure  stoops  a  little. 
Mental  burdens  are  apt  to  bow  the  shoulders 
far  more  quickly  than  physical  ones. 

Braine  has  grayed  at  the  temples  ;  it  will  be 
but  a  little  time  before  the  brown  of  his  hair 
will  have  disappeared. 

Everet  has  got  off  the  train  just  now,  at  the 
tumble-down  little  station,  and  as  he  and  Braine 
walk  leisurely  down  the  country  road,  he  cov 
ertly  notes  every  detail  of  his  friend's  appear 
ance. 


308  JUGGERNAUT: 


There  is  still  a  dignity  in  Braine's  figure  and 
movement.  No  stoop,  no  length  of  time  can 
deform  that,  any  more  than  it  can  change  the 
attraction  of  his  face.  These  things  were  not 
the  ornamentations  but  the  substance  of  the 
man.  All  thought  of  dishonor  in  this  man 
was  acquired — and  it  was  a  hard  thing  to  learn. 
Honesty  and  uprightness  of  mind  were  innate. 
It  is  his  natural  self  that  has  remained  by  him 
in  the  crisis. 

With  the  woman,  things  were  different. 

The  two  men  stroll  on  through  the  mellow 
glow,  the  setting  sun  lending  its  fiery  touch  to 
the  hedge-rows,  turning  the  gray  of  the  road 
to  a  more  cheerful  yellow.  A  bob-white  calls 
from  the  wood  on  the  left  ;  a  wood-pecker  is 
warily  at  work  in  an  apple-tree  in  the  orchard 
on  the  right.  Sweet  evening  odors,  evening 
sounds,  evening  winds,  surround  the  men  like 
a  benediction. 

Braine  stops  once  in  the  road  and  looks  off 
over  a  yellow  field — a  field  of  grain  half  cut. 
A  man  still  works  there  among  the  sweet- 
smelling  sheaves.  A  comely  woman  has  just 
passed  through  the  bars  beyond,  and  is  cross 
ing  to  the  man  who  works.  There  is  a  leis 
urely  vigor  in  his  movements  that  only  strong 
men  know  at  resting  time.  He  sees  the 
woman  and  stands  erect,  awaiting  her,  his 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  309 

rugged,  positive  form  outlined  against  the 
flushing  sky,  that  seems  to  terminate  the 
whole  earth  in  the  field  behind  him.  He  does 
not  meet  her.  She  comes  to  him.  If  there  is 
anything  save  the  rabbits  in  the  grain  to  see,  the 
man  and  woman  do  not  know.  The  man  must 
be  a  poet — for  he  does  not  kiss  her  lips.  The 
man  who  binds  the  sheaves  instinctively  knows 
that  passion  and  the  hour  are  incongruous.  He 
takes  her  face  between  his  hands  and  looks 
into  her  eyes,  and  as  the  sun  with  one  last 
peep  sinks  below  the  hill  into  nothing,  he 
lends  to  the  two  the  brightest  ray  left  him, 
and  they  stand  in  a  rosy  sea  for  a  little  minute 
— these  two  !  And  the  day  is  done. 

Braine  stands  with  shaded  eyes.  The  strong 
hand,  slightly  browned,  trembles  a  little.  As 
they  walk  on,  he  breaks  the  stillness  gently : 

"  I  could  be  happy  here."  There  is  a  wist- 
fulness  in  his  voice. 

Everet  touches  the  hand  at  his  side.  There 
is  the  peculiar  gentleness  in  the  touch  that 
some  men  have.  The  two  go  on,  hand  in 
hand.  The  greatness  of  friendship  lies  in  its 
simplicity.  Neither  speaks  again  until  they 
turn  into  a  worn  foot-path  at  the  right,  and 
follow  it  to  a  small  white  house  beyond. 

Braine  lives  here.  A  little  house  set  in  a 
patch  of  orchard,  a  flower-bed  here  near  the 


3  I O  JUGGEKNA  UT: 


door — an  old-fashioned  bed  where  sweet-wil 
liam  reigns  supreme — that  shows  the  conscien 
tious  care  of  some  one  who  loves — something. 
On  the  step,  Helen's  dog.  Very  little  things? 
Yes.  Magnificent  in  their  commonplaceness. 
These  things  that  are  the  care  and  com 
panions  of  a  great  mind — a  lonely  man,  who 
has  controlled  by  his  intellect  the  thought  and 
act  of  millions,  directly  or  indirectly!  Who 
would  not  be  a  flower — or  a  dog  ? 

With  old  time  courtesy  Braine  enters  and 
stands  in  the  narrow  little  doorway  to  welcome 
Everet.  He  makes  no  apology.  He  sees 
nothing  to  demand  it,  though  the  cane  chairs 
are  not  the  poems  in  upholstery  that  are  in 
Everet's  rooms  ;  though  the  bench  at  the  side 
serves  in  place  of  luxurious  divans.  There  are 
no  carpets  on  the  floor,  but  the  shining  white 
ness  of  the  boards  is  seductive. 

There  is  a  desk  in  one  corner — there  is  some 
thing  familiar  in  its  look.  It  has  collar  boxes 
for  pigeon-holes.  It  has  an  atmosphere  of 
industry  about  it.  Evidently  the  lonely  man 
is  not  an  idle  man. 

Braine  says  to  the  clean  boy  in  the  next 
room  : 

"  We  will  have  some  supper  now — I  do  not 
dine  any  more,"  with  a  smile  and  a  nod  at 
Everet. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  3  I  I 

Everct  makes  no  remark.  The  scene  is 
impressing  him  strangely.  The  odors  of  the 
orchard  waft  through  the  door ;  a  cricket 
under  the  window  keeps  up  a  drowsy  tune. 

The  two  men  sit  side  by  side  on  the  door-step 
while  their  supper  is  made  ready  for  them. 
Neither  says  very  much. 

"  Are  you  not  lonely  here,  dear  fellow?  " 

Braine  looks  up,  and  he  ceases  to  stroke 
Helen's  dog.  He  replies  gently  : 

"Yes,  I  am  often  lonely." 

"Do  you  have  nothing  to  occupy  your  days?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  The  days  are  not  bad."  He 
nods  in  the  direction  of  the  desk  ;  pats  Helen's 
dog  ;  glances  at  his  flowers. 

"  And  the  nights?" 

Braine  smiles  and  does  not  reply.  There 
are  tears  that  cause  heart-ache,  but  there  are 
smiles  that  cause  heart-break. 

After  a  time  they  go  in  to  supper.  It  is  a 
frugal  one — suggesting  how  adequate  the  food 
of  the  mind  may  be. 

There  is  wine  for  Everet — who  keeps  his 
friend  company,  however,  in  drinking  water. 

After  a  time  they  sit  together  in  the 
twilight.  There  has  been  a  long  silence  be 
tween  them.  Presently  Everet  says  : 

"  Do  you  want  to  hear?  " 

Braine  nods. 


3  1 2  JUG  GERNA  UT : 

"  She  does  not  live  in  the  house  where  I  es 
tablished  her.  She  is  independent  of  my  care. 
She  no  longer  comes  to  me  for  sympathy. 
She  no  longer  needs  me  as  a  friend.  She  is 
rich,  powerful,  beautiful,  cold,  commanding. 
She  has  a  salon.  The  brilliant  men  of  the  coun 
try  may  be  found  there,  a  few  of  the  women. 
She  rules  the  statesman,  the  poet,  the  pagan, 
the  minister — all  but  the  Christian  and  the  con 
ventional.  If  her  life  is  not  irreproachably 
virtuous,  now,  no  one  suggests  the  doubt,  be 
cause  whenever  they  decide  to  acknowledge 
the  truth  they  may  no  longer  visit  her.  Con 
ventional  women  know  her.  They  never  ac 
knowledge  her.  They  never  repudiate  her ; 
they  never  mention  her  ;  they  are  afraid  of  her. 
Their  husbands'  interests  are  too  often  in  her 
hands,  sometimes  their  own — or  their  lovers'. 
She  rules,  she  reigns.  She  lifts  her  finger  and 
great  men  obey,  and  shs  lifts  it  only  for  those 
who  pay.  She  has  two  sources  of  income — her 
wits  and  a  lover.  She  acknowledges  the  wits 
and  not  the  lover;  consequently  her  satellites 
do  the  same.  How  long  this  state  of  things  will 
continue,  depends  on  the  wits  and  the  lover." 

He  ceases  to  speak.  He  looks  at  Braine. 
His  sombre  face  is  gray.  Everet  says  : 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  am  telling  you  this  ? 
Because  I  am  going  to  drag  you  from  this 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  3  I  3 

place  where  you  have  buried  your  greatness 
and  your  talents.  I  am  going  to  show  you 
that  this  woman  you  mourn  is  not  worth  it, 
that—" 

Braine  raises  his  hand  : 

"  Don't  say  that."  There  is  firmness  and 
meaning  in  the  tone.  "  Perhaps  this  woman  is 
not  worth  it — but  Helen  is.  I  have  not  buried 
my  talents.  I  am  not  an  idle  man.  I  am 
trying  to  accomplish  something  that  will  in 
some  degree  indemnify  those  I  have  wronged. 
I  do  not  mourn  for  the  woman  alone,  but  for 
my  sin.  My  sin  was  in  making  my  Helen  the 
woman  you  tell  me  of.  She  has  no  sins  to 
answer  for.  /  am  responsible.  Some  day 
she  will  come  back  to  me — 

He  speaks  dreamily,  looking  into  the  purple 
dusk, 

"  Some  day  she  will  come  back,  and  I  will 
take  her  in  my  arms  and  have  my  wife,  my 
Helen,  Helen  of  the  old  good  days  again. 
She  shall  not  live  so — "  looking,  about  the  lit 
tle  room.  "  All  my  wealth  is  being  saved  for 
her.  She  shall  not  live  like  this,  but  amid  the 
surroundings  that  Helen  loves,  and  with  me. 
She  will  be  so  grateful  for  the  rest  and  peace, 
after  the  strife  and  hurry.  We  may  both  be 
old,"  wistfully.  "  I  am  old  now  ;  but  it  will 
happen — she  will  come  back." 


3 1 4  JUGGERNA  UT: 


He  stops  and  seems  to  continue  the  thread 
of  his  thought  to  himself. 

Everet  says  nothing.  His  face  is  turned  the 
other  way — though  the  dusk  would  hide  its 
expression.  After  a  time  the  two  men  say 
good  night. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  315 


XXXVII. 

IT  is  another  summer  evening,  like  that  of 
four  years  ago,  and  Everet  is  again  with  Braine 
at  the  little  cottage.  He  is  impressed  less  with 
the  sorrow  than  with  the  rugged  strength  of 
the  man  who  rises  from  his  flower-bed  to  greet 
him. 

"  Work  is  good  for  you,"  he  says,  scanning 
the  face  of  his  friend  ;  "  and  the  work  is  good, 
too.  I  did  not  believe  it  possible  that  the  man 
of  action,  relinquishing  action  as  you  have  done, 
could  become  a  power  as  the  man  of  thought. 
But  you  have  wrought  that  miracle." 

"  The  work  is  effective,  then  ?  " 

"  More.  It  is  inspiring.  Your  printed 
words  do  not  draw  men  to  you  as  your  elo 
quence  did,  and  you  take  no  personal  part  in 
directing  human  endeavor,  but  you  are  influenc 
ing  others  to  action  as  you  never  did  before, 
and  instead  of  one  great  Edgar  Braine,  filling 
the  eye  of  the  public,  we  have  thousands  in- 


3  1 6  JUGGERNA  UT : 


spired  by  him  to  do  his  work  for  the  better 
ment  of  the  land  and  the  time.  My  friend,  I 
once  tried  to  draw  you  from  the  solitude  in 
which  you  were  wasting  yourself,  as  I  sup 
posed  ;  I  have  no  wish  now  to  draw  you  from 
a  seclusion  in  which  you  are  doing  a  nobler 
work  than  in  your  most  active  days." 

"Thank  you,  Everet — and  thank  God!  I 
have  atonement  to  make,  you  know,  and  it 
is  encouraging  to  know  that  I  am  making 
it." 

And  so  the  two  talk  on  of  public  matters, 
with  no  further  reference  to  the  more  sensitive 
matters  of  personal  feeling,  until  the  clean  boy 
has  served  the  supper,  and  they  have  finished 
it.  Then,  as  they  sit  together  in  the  open  air, 
Braine  says  : 

"  And  now,  Everet  ?  " 

Everet  understands,  and  takes  a  preparatory 
long  breath.  He  begins: 

"  I  told  you  I  had  come  from  New  York 
instead  of  Washington  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  she  is  there." 

"  Yes  ?  "  as  Everet  pauses. 

"  Yes.  She  could  not  remain  in  Washington 
any  longer.  She  has  been  in  New  York  for 
six  months  now." 

"  What  is  she  doing?  " 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  317 

Everet  does  not  reply  for  a  moment ;  then 
he  continues : 

"  The  last  year  she  was  there  was  a  disas 
trous  one  for  her.  The  old  set  were  enraged 
by  certain  of  her  desperate  exploits  in  finance, 
and  she  did  not  get  on  with  the  new.  It 
was  impossible  for  her  to  remain  there  any 
longer,  so  she  sought  a  new  field  in  New 
York." 

He  is  reluctant  to  say  more,  and  pauses 
again. 

"  Well  ?  "  Braine  speaks  obstinately.  "  Go 
on." 

"  She  went  to  New  York  and  began  living 
on  a  large  scale — she  still  lives  on  a  large  scale 
—but  Helen  is  a  fine-grained  woman  to  her 
finger  tips,  no  matter  what  she  has  done.  The 
Washington  politician  is  bad  enough,  but  the 
New  York  politician  is  a  good  deal  worse — to 
a  woman.  When  Helen  sinks  to  the  street 
commissioner  and  the  sheriff,  she  is  to  be 
pitied.  And  it  will  come  to  that.  Now  that  she 
has  left  the  field  that  she  was  so  long  mistress 
of,  she  will  not  be  able  to  reach  the  superior 
villains — no:  that  is  hard  on  them.  I'll  call 
them  men — we're  all  men." 

He  looks  meditatively  into  the  darkness. 

"  No,  Helen  cannot  carry  on  transactions 
with  her  kind  any  more,  and  she  must  use 


318  JUGGERNAUT: 


these  others."  Then,  continuing  grimly,  "How 
she  will  bring  herself  to  assimilate  with — 

"  Everet — you — you  are  speaking  of  Helen." 

There  is  no  anger  in  the  tone.  It  is  a  tone 
rather  of  tenderness  and  surprise. 

Everet  bites  his  lip,  and  says : 

"  Forgive  me,  Braine.     I — forgot  it." 

After  a  time,  Braine  asks  : 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  be  of  any  use  to  go 
to  her,  Everet  !  I  would  tell  her  that  I  lovecl 
her  just  the  same,  you  know,  and  want  her 
back ;  or  do  you  think  I  had  better  wait 
awhile, — until  she  is  ready  to  return  of  her' 
self?" 

He  speaks  with  the  old,  wistful  intonation. 

Everet  replies  earnestly : 

"  No,  Braine.  It  is  better  for  you  to — wait. 
It  would  do  no  good  for  you  to  go.  There  is 
no  use  in  your  putting  yourself  in  the  way  of 
affront — " 

"I  should  not  mind  that,"  quickly. 

"  No — not  if  it  would  do  any  good.  But  it 
would  be  useless.  I  know  what  I  say,  Braine. 
I — I  have  seen  her.  She  would  not  return — 
she  would  not  see  you." 

Braine  sighs  heavily. 

After  a  time,  he  leaves  Everet  to  smoke  a 
last  cigar,  and  goes  to  his  work  at  his  desk, 
from  which  he  does  not  rise  till  morning'. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  319 


XXXVIII. 

A  YEAR  later. 

"  How  do  you  feel  to-day  ?  " 

"  The  same." 

Helen  keeps  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  handle  of 
the  cracked  wash-pitcher. 

The  physician  looks  at  her  curiously  for  a 
moment.  After  a  little  he  says  : 

"  Have  you  no  friends?" 

"  None ;  "  without  ceasing  to  study  the 
cracked  pitcher.  As  usual,  the  woman  leaves 
no  chance  for  further  questions. 

As  he  rises  to  go,  the  physician  says  gravely  : 

"  I  think  if  you  could  force  yourself  to 
arouse,  you  could  throw  off  this — this — disease 
that  is  sapping  your  vitality.  It  is  more  a 
disease  of  the  mind,  I  think,  than  the  body." 

"  Doubtless." 

The  physician  says  : 

"  Well,  good-day,"  lingering  a  moment 
longer. 


320  JUGGERNAUT: 


"  Good-day,"  from  the  bed. 

He  has  attended  this  woman,  who  is  on  his 
charity  list,  for  two  months,  and  he  has  never 
heard  her  utter  more  than  one  sentence  at  a 
time — and  seldom  a  sentence  of  more  than  one 
word.  She  has  looked  in  his  face  once.  He 
will  never  forget  that  look.  Since  then,  she 
has  studied  the  wall,  or  the  broken  window,  or 
some  other  object.  He  may  speak  for  five 
minutes  at  a  time,  and  she  makes  no  sign  that 
she  hears  him  unless  he  asks  a  question. 

He  cannot  decide  what  is  the  matter  with 
her.  She  lies  here  day  after  day,  apparently 
unattended — indeed  he  is  not  certain  but  that 
she  is  starving,  though  she  has  said,  "Nothing," 
when  he  has  inquired  if  there  was  anything 
that  she  needed,  anything  he  could  do  for  her. 

He  has  made  inquiries  of  the,  Irish  woman 
below,  of  the  Dutchman  across  the  hall,  and 
the  Italian  above,  but  he  only  hears  below  that 
she's  "  wan  av  yer  foine  ladies,"  and  across  the 
hall  and  above  he  has  heard — no  matter  what. 

He  has  discovered  that  the  daughter  of  the 
old-iron  man  in  the  cellar  goes  in  once  a  da}-, 
and  is  paid  ten  cents  for  it— or  used  to  be; 
now  she  goes  for  sweet  charity.  He  can  learn 
no  more.  He  calls  only  occasionally  no\v. 
He  can  do  nothing  for  her.  He  does  not 
know  what  is  the  matter  with  her. 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  321 

As  she  lies  here  alone  after  he  has  gone, 
she  clasps  her  thin  hands,  with  a  weak  move 
ment,  and  gives  a  little  moan  indicative  of 
weakness,  of  pain,  of  sorrow  perhaps — perhaps 
all  three.  After  a  time  she  says  aloud  : 

"  He  is  to  blame  for  it  all." 

The  old  gleam  is  in  her  eyes.  The  old 
relentless  expression  in  her  tone. 

She  turns  her  face  to  the  grimy  Avail,  with  a 
smothered  groan.  She  lies  with  her  eyes  shut, 
while  the  dusk  closes  in.  The  night-sounds 
in  the  street  reach  her  through  the  open  win 
dow.  The  room  is  hot  and  stuffy;  the  odors 
are  intolerable.  They  are  intolerable  in  their 
suggestions.  It  is  not  the  subtle  perfume  that 
arouses  an  emotion — but  what  the  perfume 
suggests;  it  is  not  the  fume  that  disgusts — but 
what  it  suggests.  These  fumes  suggest  a  Chinese 
restaurant,  an  unclean  bedroom,  a  garbage  bar 
rel,  a  swill  cart,  and  the  stale  memory  of  bad 
tobacco.  All  this  is  tinctured  with  the  Dutch 
man's  cheese  over  the  way. 

A  child  is  bawling  in  the  street.  The  Ital 
ian  above  is'  beating  his  monkey;  a  coal- 
heaver  is  cursing  his  wife,  and  has  just  thrown 
a  bottle  at  his  brat,  which  accounts  for  one 
less  sound, — for  one  more  silence  suddenly 
occurring.  And  Helen  lies  on  a  bed  assorting 
these  sounds  and  smells.  Helen  !  Patrician 


322  JUGGERNA  UT: 

Helen  !  Helen  of  dainty  habit  !  Fastidious 
Helen  !  Braine's  wife  !  Braine's  Helen  ! 

"  D'ye  want  anythin'  ? "  The  old-iron 
man's  daughter  thrusts  her  kindly,  dirty  face 
inside  the  door. 

"  Nothing." 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  323 


XXXIX. 

EVERET  and  Braine  are  walking  down  the 
road  from  the  station.  Everet  is  talking  earn 
estly.  Braine  is  listening  eagerly.  Disap 
pointment  is  written  on  his  face. 

"  You  have  found  no  clew  ?  " 

"  None."     Everet  speaks  hopelessly. 

"  Don't  speak  in  that  tone.  A  woman  like 
Helen  cannot  drop  out  of  existence  without 
leaving  some  trace.  What  was  the  last  you 
discovered  ?" 

"  I  found  a  place  where    she    had   lived — a 
comfortable    flat.      She    had    lived    there — 
He  hesitates. 

Braine  says  quietly: 

"  Say  it." 

"  With  a  man  called  McPhelan — you  know 
who  he  is,  I  presume." 

"Good  God!" 

Braine  stops  in  the  road  and  looks  helplessly 
into  Everet's  face.  He  moans  : 

"  Don't  say  that,   Everet !     Don't  say  that ! 


324  JUGGERNAUT: 

Not  Helen !  It  was  not  she.  It  was  some 
other." 

"  And  after  all,  dear  Brame,  what  is  the 
difference  ?  A  Sixth  Ward  politician,  or  a 
member  of  the  cabinet." 

He  has  thrown  his  arm  across  Braine's 
shoulders.  His  tone  is  one  of  tenderest  sym 
pathy,  but  there  is  a  certain  sternness  in  it. 

Braine's  strong  body  trembles  like  a  weak 
child's.  He  says,  hoarsely  : 

"  I  must  go  and  find  her.     I  must,  Everet." 

"  No,  no.  No  one  could  do  more  than  I 
can  in  such  a  matter.  I  will  look  until  I  find 
her,  or  know  that  she  is  dead.  I  will  obey 
your  least  direction,  your  slightest  wish  in 
this,  but  grant  what  I  ask  of  you.  Don't  go 
to  find  her.  Think,  Braine!  Think  what  it 
would  be  to  learn  such  things  from  strangers ; 
think  what  it  would  be  to  learn  the  details  of  so 
pitiful  a  life  from  those  who  cared  nothing  for 
your  grief.  It  is  right  you  should  know  them 
—  but  hear  them  from  me.  I  love  you.  I  loved 
Helen — the  Helen  you  have  known.  You 
surely  can  bear  these  things  better  from  me." 

"  Yes,  yes.  God  bless  you,  Everet.  You're 
the  truest  friend  a  man  ever  had.  But  promise 
me,  promise  me  you  will  leave  no  stone  un 
turned  ?  " 

"  I  promise." 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  325 


XL. 

HELEN  lies  staring  out  of  the  window. 
There  is  no  curtain  to  shut  out  the  glaring 
sunlight,  which  is  causing  the  fumes  to  rise 
from  the  broiling  humanity  below. 

Metropolitan  poverty  suggests  to  me 
sounds  and  smells.  I  could  endure  sights. 
What  one  sees,  one  knows.  There  is  no 
longer  room  for  the  imagination — that  is  capa 
ble  of  so  much  that  is  more  horrible  than 
reality.  But  a  sound  ! 

A  woman  in  the  room  below  us  cries, 
"  Don't  !  "  She  may  be  speaking  excitedly  to 
her  child — or  that  brute,  her  husband,  may 
have  her  by  the  hair  preparing  to  cut  her 
throat. 

Just  now,  Helen  hears  a  chair  knocked  over 
in  the  dark  hall  outside  her  door.  It  does 
not  occur  to  her  that  someone  has  stumbled  in 
the  darkness ;  she  thinks  someone  has  knocked 
someone  down  in  the  hall.  There  is  no  more 


326  JUG  GERNA  UT: 


noise,  and  she  carries  on  the  thought  still  far 
ther.  She  says,  "  One  of  them  is  being  stran 
gled,  and  that  is  why  it  is  still."  With  this 
thought,  a  face  she  has  seen  once  in  the  door 
way  opposite  comes  to  her  mind ;  an  evil, 
loathsome  face.  She  at  once  associates  it  with 
the  silent  murder  that  is  being  done  in  the 
hall.  She  has  not  the  slightest  doubt  that 
this  is  a  fact.  She  does  not  stir.  She  would 
not  if  the  evil  man  with  the  loathsome  face 
came  in  to  strangle  her.  She  would  be  per 
fectly  quiet  because  she  would  know  of 
nothing  else  to  do. 

Some  one  raps  on  her  door.  It  is  the  man 
with  the  loathsome  face,  she  knows.  She  does 
not  speak.  Her  eyes  are  fixed  in  a  sort  of 
fascination  on  the  door.  The  knob  turns  ;  she 
still  stares  as  the  door  opens.  There  is  an 
eeriness  in  watching  a  slowly  opening  door 
when  one  knows  nothing  of  the  one  who  is 
impelling  it. 

A  man  enters.  It  is  not  the  man  of  the 
evil  face.  It  is  Everet ;  but  the  outward  effect 
is  the  same,  upon  her.  She  does  not  speak. 
She  watches  him  as  he  comes  toward  the  bed. 
He  does  not  speak  to  her.  He  stands  at 
the  bedside  looking  down  at  her.  She  lies 
motionless,  looking  up  into  his  face. 

Slowly   his   eyes    fill  with  tears.     He  takes 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  327 

the  slim,  transparent  hand  that  lies  inert  on 
the  grimy  quilt,  and  bowing  over  it  lifts  it  to 
his  lips.  He  kisses  it  as  though  it  were  the 
hand  of  a  princess.  There  is  a  reverence,  a 
homage  in  the  act  that  he  never  showed  to 
Helen  Braine  in  her  proudest  days, — the  hom 
age  that  helplessness  and  misery  command. 

Helen  makes  no  sign.  Everet  walks  to  the 
window  and  looks  down  into  the  fiery  street. 
There  is  a  woman,  half-clothed,  drunk  in  the 
gutter.  He  turns  away  with  a  shudder.  He 
stands  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  for  a  moment, 
looking  at  the  figure  in  the  bed.  She  does  not 
speak.  After  a  moment  of  indecision,  he 
hurries  from  the  room.  He  sends  a  telegram  ; 
gets  some  wine  and  other  things  his  judgment 
suggests  may  be  useful,  and  hurries  back  to 
the  room  he  has  left. 

He  knocks  off  the  neck  of  the  bottle — hav 
ing  no  more  convenient  means  of  opening  it. 
He  finds  a  cracked  tea  cup  in  a  cupboard,  and 
pours  a  little  of  the  wine  into  it.  He  goes  to 
Helen  and  raises  her  a  little  by  slipping  his 
arm  under  her  shoulders.  She  is  as  light  as  a 
little  child.  His  hand  trembles  as  he  holds  the 
cup  to  her  lips.  She  drinks  and  lies  back  on 
the  pillow  without  speaking. 

After  a  time  she  eats  a  little  of  what  Everet 
has  brought.  He  looks  about  the  bare  room 


328  JUGGERNA  UT: 


uncertainly.  He  has  a  desire  to  make  it  more 
habitable  while  she  is  in  it.  Nothing  can  be 
done.  He  draws  a  chair  to  the  bed  and  sits  in 
it.  Taking  Helen's  hand  he  speaks  for  the 
first  time  ;  he  says  : 

"  You  have  been  very  ill  ?  " 

She  does  not  reply. 

After  a  pause,  he  says  gently  : 

"  You  do  not  want  to  talk,  dear  ?  " 

She  shakes  her  head.  Everet  remains  qui 
etly  by  her,  holding  the  shadowy  little  hand. 

As  evening  comes,  the  sounds  in  the  street 
become  less  collective  and  more  individual. 
They  seem  more  aggressive. 

There  is  no  candle,  no  lamp  to  light.  He 
does  not  go  out  for  candles  because  he  does 
not  want  to  leave  her.  He  sits  on  in  the  dark 
ness.  Now  and  then  when  one  sound  comes 
more  sharply  or  loudly  than  another,  the  thin 
fingers  tighten  over  his.  He  holds  the  hand 

O  O 

close,  and  murmurs : 

"  Poor  child !  And  you  have  endured  all 
this  alone." 

There  is  no  response,  and  silence  falls  again. 

After  an  hour  they  hear  a  step  in  the  hall. 
Helen  knows  the  step.  If  it  were  not  for  the 
darkness  Everet  would  see  the  relentless  gleam 
that  springs  into  her  eyes.  The  door  opens 
and  Braine  hurries  into  the  room. 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  329 

He  stands,  bewildered  at  finding  darkness. 
He  can  only  see  objects  dimly  through  the 
gloom.  Everet  throws  his  arm  around  him, 
and  leads  him  to  the  bed.  He  leaves  him 
standing  there,  and  hurries  from  the  apart 
ment. 

Braine  sinks  on  his  knees  beside  Helen. 
He  throws  his  strong  arms  about  the  frail 
figure,  and  lifts  her  to  his  heart. 

There  is  not  a  sound,  there  in  the  darkness, 
save  the  heavy,  tremulous  breaths  drawn  by 
Braine. 

He  holds  her  so.  He  gives  her  no  caress, 
says  no  word  of  endearment.  His  emotions 
have  carried  him  beyond  such  forms.  He 
only  holds  her  close  to  his  heart,  tightening  his 
arms  about  her  from  time  to  time,  as  though 
in  a  sudden  terror  lest  she  be  spirited  from  him. 

That  she  is  utterly  unresponsive  he  does  not 
note.  If  he  did  he  would  not  care  now.  He 
has  but  one  thought :  "  This  is  Helen,  Helen, 
Helen." 

Everet  finds  them  so  when  he  re-enters  the 
room.  He  brings  candles  with  him  and  lights 
them.  He  first  notices  the  expression  on 
Helen's  face.  It  paralyzes  him  for  the  mo 
ment  ;  then  he  looks  fearfully  and  furtively  at 
Braine.  He  is  oblivious  of  Helen's  expression. 
He  knows  only  Helen. 


3  3O  JUGGERNA  UT: 


"  And  now?" 

Everet  looks  about  and  pauses.  He  forgets 
that  Helen  has  not  spoken  since  he  entered 
the  room  in  the  morning.  Of  course  he  does 
not  know  what  has  passed  between  the  two. 

Braine  seems  utterly  helpless,  and  looks  at 
.Everet  in  reply.  Everet  says  quietly  : 

"  You  remembered  to  bring  things  as  I 
wired  you  ?  " 

Braine  nods  and  points  to  the  package  on 
the  chair. 

Everet  had  asked  Braine  in  his  telegram  to 
bring  something  that  Helen  could  travel  in. 
He  knew  that  in  a  certain  room,  in  a  certain 
little  white  house,  were  certain  beautiful 
belongings  of  Helen's ;  treasured  for  what  ? 
Such  a  time  as  this,  perhaps. 

Everet  unrolls  the  things.  Braine  has  been 
fortunate  enough  to  select  something  suitable. 

Everet  says  in  a  business-like  way : 

"  She  must  leave  here,  at  once — a  hotel,  or 
home?" 

"Home." 

"  Very  well  ;  she  must  be  dressed,  you 
know.  You  had  better  assist  her  while  I  see 
about  a  carriage  in  which  to  get  her  away  from 
this  place." 

He  points  to  the  garments,  saying  : 

"There  they  are,  Braine." 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  331 

He  is  impressed  with  the  conviction  that 
Braine  does  not  comprehend  much  now. 

He  leaves  the  room.  Braine  goes  to  the  bed, 
and  says,  in  a  voice  too  full  of  tenderness,  joy, 
love,  to  be  very  comprehensible  ; 

"  Can  you  be  dressed  now,  dear?" 

She  looks  at  him  without  replying.  He 
thinks  she  has  not  heard,  and  repeats  the 
question.  She  does  not  answer.  He  says, 
lovingly,  with  a  caress  : 

"  You  shall  not  be  annoyed,  dearest.  You 
need  not  talk.  I  will  help  you." 

She  is  absolutely  passive.  She  assists  her 
self  very  little.  She  does  not  make  any 
instinctive  motion  that  will  help,  but  obeys 
Braine's  least  suggestion  like  an  automaton. 

The  gown  is  of  a  style  worn  more  than  five 
years  before,  and  hangs  oddly  on  the  atten 
uated  figure,  that  once  filled  out  its  graceful 
curves.  Its  richness  contrasts  strangely  with 
the  dingy  room. 

Is  there  a  trace  of  the  old  Helen?  Very 
little.  The  beauty  of  her  eyes  will  never  dis 
appear  ;  the  grace  of  her  least  gesture  will 
remain — but  the  hard  bitterness,  the  desperate 
expression  is  hers  too. 

Braine  does  not  notice  it.  He  only  sees 
that  other  trace  of  Helen. 

She   seems    to    be    in    no   pain,  but  utterly 


332  JUGGERNA  UT: 

exhausted  as  he  lays  her  back  on  the  pillow, 
while  they  wait  for  Everet.  Her  eyes  never 
wander  from  his  face.  He  interprets  their 
expression  by  his  own  emotions,  and  smiles 
back  at  her  in  response.  There  seems  nothing 
peculiar  in  her  silence.  Even  he  finds  it  an 
effort  to  speak. 

They  hear  Everet  spring  up  the  stairs.  He 
knocks  and  comes  in,  as  Braine  bids  him.  He 
says,  with  a  smile  : 

"  You  are  ready  to  go  ?  "  looking  at  Helen. 

Braine  replies: 

"Yes." 

Helen  makes  no  movement  to  help  herself. 
Braine  takes  her  in  his  arms  and  carries  her, 
with  no  resistance  on  her  part,  to  the  carriage 
below.  She  is  but  a  feather-weight.  He 
draws  her  to  him  so  that  she  rests  with  the 
utmost  ease  against  his  shoulder. 

Everet  sits  opposite.  He  appears  oblivious 
of  everything  but  the  lamp-posts  in  the  street, 
but  he  furtively  watches  Helen's  face.  Its 
expression  is  terrifying  him.  He  is  thinking 
of  the  future  of  the  friend  who  sits  opposite. 
He  does  not  dare  interpret  this  changeless 
expression. 

At  the  station  he  suggests  that  he  remain  in 
the  city.  Braine  grasps  his  hand  in  mute 
appeal : 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  333 

"  I — I  feel  so  helpless,  powerless  in  some 
way,  Everet." 

Everet  presses  his  hand,  replying : 

"  Just  as  you  wish,  old  fellow — I  was  only 
thinking  of  you." 

And  so  this  friend  goes  with  them. 

He  enters  this  man's  house  with  this  man's 
wife — the  wife  whom  five  years  ago  he  took 
away. 

On  the  journey,  Everet  is  seldom  near  them  : 
when  he  is,  he  is  bright,  helpful,  tender. 
Helen  has  never  once  spoken.  She  helps  her 
self  in  no  way.  Braine  cares  for  her  like  a 
child.  She  is  perfectly  passive. 

Her  continued  silence  has  at  last  forced  it 
self  upon  Braine's  mind.  Now  that  he  stops 
to  think,  he  knows  that  he  has  not  heard  her 
voice.  He  is  amazed  at  first.  He  looks  up  at 
her  in  a  startled  way,  as  the  thought  comes  to 
him.  She  is  looking  vacantly  out  of  the 
window.  He  asks  her  a  question.  She  turns 
her  head  and  looks  in  his  face.  She  makes 
no  reply.  There  is  no  inquiry  expressed  in 
her  countenance. 

For  the  first  time  he  realizes  the  expression 
of  her  deep,  beautiful  eyes.  He  feels  an  icy 
hand  clutch  at  his  heart.  He  is  speechless  for 
a  moment ;  then  he  leans  near  her.  With  a 
world  of  anguish  and  appeal  in  his  voice,  he  says  : 


3  34  JUGGERNA  UT: 


"  Helen  !  " 

She  does  not  reply ;  she  only  looks  in  his 
face.  Her  expression  never  varies  ;  and  it  is 
no  look  of  insanity.  It  is  the  only  expression 
Braine  will  ever  see  there,  and  in  that  instant 
he  is  aware  of  the  fact. 

He  turns  to  the  window  and  sits  staring  out. 
Once  he  draws  a  long,  quivering  breath,  that 
escapes  again,  flutteringly.  In  the  sigh  all  the 
anguish  of  a  lifetime  is  expressed. 

Was  there  a  change  for  an  instant  in  the 
expression  of  the  woman's  face  ?  If  so,  it  was 
the  shadow  of  a  smile  that  flitted  across  it — 
the  old,  sphinx-like  smile.  But  perhaps  it  was 
not  there.  If  so,  it  was  only  suggested. 

For  the  rest  of  the  journey  there  is  silence 
between  the  two  men.  The  woman  is  the 
same. 

When  they  leave  the  train  at  the  little 
station  there  is  a  conveyance  waiting  to  take 
them  to  the  cottage.  Braine  carries  Helen  as 
he  has  done  before. 

The  three  drive  silently  down  the  road  in 
the  twilight.  The  two  men  are  thinking  of  a 
scene  years  ago,  in  which  the  same  characters 
figured,  but  oh,  so  differently  ! 

As  Everet  glances  at  the  silent  figure 
through  the  dusk,  he  feels  his  whole  body 
shaken  by  some  powerful  emotion.  That 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  335 

woman,  ominously  still,  with  white  face, 
deeply  brooding,  relentless  eyes,  haggard, 
shadowy  and  worn,  is  the  woman  he  once  ad 
mired  as  the  most  perfect  type  of  what 
womanhood  was  meant  by  God  to  be  ;  now 
she  is  what  sin  alone  can  make  a  woman,  and 
he  remembers  with  exquisite  remorse  that  the 
sin  which  wrought  this  ruin  was  in  part  his. 

The  two  men  are  thinking  of  that  lost  time. 
The  woman — who  can  guess  what  the  woman 
is  thinking? 

They  drive  through  the  lane  to  the  house. 
Apparently  neither  scene  nor  time,  nor  cir 
cumstance  is  impressing  her.  She  looks  off 
over  the  purple  hills  into  nothingness. 

Braine  lifts  her  out  and  carries  her  within 
the  cottage,  placing  her  gently  in  a  chair. 
He  says  eagerly,  while  unfastening  her  wraps: 

"  Things  will  not  be  like  this,  you  know, 
dearest.  In  just  a  few  days  it  will  be  dif 
ferent." 

He  speaks  hurriedly  as  though  anxious  to 
convey  to  her  that  she  is  not  to  live  in 
poverty;  as  though  to  reassure  her;  as  though 
to  ward  off  reproach. 

Everet  stands  apart.  After  a  time,  when 
Braine  has  gone  into  the  next  room,  he  ap 
proaches  the  woman  in  the  chair.  He  stands 
by  her  side.  She  looks  up  at  him.  The  re- 


336  JUG  GERNA  UT  : 


lentless  look  leaves  her  eyes;  her  expression, 
aside  from  that,  is  the  same.  She  does  not 
speak.  He  takes  her  hand  in  his  and  holds  it 
for  a  moment  ;  then  says  gently  : 

"  Good-bye,  Helen." 

No  answer.  He  lays  her  hand  tenderly  in 
her  lap,  and  leaves  the  room.  He  never  sees 
her  again. 

In  the  next  room  he  grasps  Braine's  hands, 
saying  in  a  husky  voice  : 

"  I  am  going,  dear  Braine.  I  shall  not  re 
turn.  God  bless  you." 

Braine  looks  in  his  face,  and  Everet  sees 
that  he  has  acquired  a  new  expression,  one 
that  will  be  constant.  The  old  restlessness, 
wistfulness,  hope,  feverishness  are  gone. 
Patience  is  there,  instead. 

The  men  stand  with  clasped  hands  for  a 
moment  ;  then  Everet  goes  out  the  door, 
carrying  with  him  the  memory  of  two  faces,  a 
man's  and  a  woman's  ;  one  tragic  in  its  pa 
tience ;  one  tragic  in  its  gloom.  They  are  the 
faces  of  the  only  man  and  the  only  woman  he 
has  ever  loved. 

These  three  who  have  sinned  and  been 
sinned  against !  These  three  with  a  common 
guilt  !  Two,  with  a  mutual  repentance.  The 
other — a  woman  ! 

Helen,  sitting  alone,  her  eyes    rest  on    the 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  33? 

desk  with  its  collar-boxed  pigeon-holes.  Does 
it  suggest  something  to  her  ?  Perhaps.  The 
same,  shadowy,  enigmatic  smile  crosses  her 
face,  and  is  gone. 


338  JUGGERNAUT: 


XLI. 

THE  cottage  is  still  the  old  amiliar  white 
cottage  at  the  foot  of  the  lane.  The  dog  on 
the  step  is  Helen's  dog.  The  bed  of  sweet- 
williams  is  still  tended  by  Braine.  The  same 
old  desk  sits  in  the  corner,  at  which  the  same 
earnest,  grave  man  works,  but  all  else  is  dif 
ferent. 

There  is  no  longer  the  seductiveness  of  shin 
ing  cleanliness  alone,  but  there  have  been 
added  the  proper  settings  of  the  Helen  of  long 
ago. 

The  cottage  is  dainty  within; — rich  with 
soft  carpets  and  heavy  hangings.  It  impresses 
one  as  a  little  incongruous  at  first,  on  entering 
with  the  impression  of  simplicity  gained  out 
side  ;  but  the  feeling  quickly  wears  off,  and 
one  is  satisfied  with  the  charm. 

All  was  done  in  a  week's  time.  She  did  not 
have  to  wait. 

She  apparently  has  been  unimpressed  with 


A    VEILED  RECORD.  339 

the  change.  She  has  accepted  the  luxury  as 
she  did  the  apparent  poverty.  Braine  has  no 
way  of  knowing  whether  it  pleases  her  or  not ; 
whether  she  has  a  desire  that  he  may  make 
himself  happy  by  gratifying  her  or  not. 

She  sits  always  in  one  place — on  a  luxuri 
ously  soft,  roomy  chair  in  the  window,  with 
the  flower-bed  just  in  front  of  her.  She  sits 
half  reclining  here,  from  morning  till  night. 

Braine  attends  to  every  want.  He  dresses 
her  as  deftly  as  a  woman,  in  the  morning;  at 
night  he  assists  her  again. 

She  requires  no  waiting  on.  He  stands  for 
moments  beside  her  sometimes,  longing  to 
hear  her  signify  a  desire  that  he  may  fulfil  it. 
She  wants  nothing. 

Sometimes  her  presence  drives  him  nearly 
mad.  He  sits  at  the  desk  hour  after  hour, 
feeling  her  dark,  brooding  eyes  fixed  upon  him. 
He  endures  it  until  he  feels  his  senses  swim 
ming,  and  then  sometimes  looks  up  with  a 
smile,  terrible  in  its  effort  and  pathos.  He 
looks  up  to  meet  the  relentless  gaze  that  fol 
lows  him  from  morning  till  night.  Never  a 
word,  never  a  motion.  Silence,  passivity 
always. 

She  looks  at  one  other  thing — the  sweet- 
williams  in  front  of  the  window.  Her  expres 
sion  may  not  change  ;  it  may  be  the  relief  that 


34O  JUG  GERNA  UT: 


he  experiences,  when  he  knows  that  her  eyes 
are  not  upon  him,  but  he  fancies  that  the  gaze 
is  less  terrible,  less  forbidding  when  she  looks 
at  the  flowers.  For  this  reason,  he  brings  her 
a  fragrant  little  bunch  each  morning,  each 
evening.  He  lays  them  in  her  lap.  He  never 
sees  her  touch  them,  but  she  never  rejects 
them.  She  accepts  them  as  she  does  every 
thing  else,  in  utter  silence,  passively. 

Those  brought  in  the  morning  are  withered 
at  night,  and  those  brought  at  night,  faded  by 
day — but  he  never  throws  them  away.  They 
have  been  near  her.  They  have  touched  her 
gown — possibly  she  has  touched  them  with 
her  hands.  It  is  possible  she  has  touched 
them  with  her  lips — those  lips  he  never  dares 
kiss.  At  any  rate  he  keeps  the  withered  flow 
ers.  He  puts  them  away,  each  little  faded 
bunch,  in  a  drawer  in  the  strange  little 
desk. 

Sometimes  he  raises  his  head  from  his  writ 
ing  to  speak.  He  meets  her  glance,  and  is 
dumb.  Sometimes  he  thinks  she  must  be 
lonely,  and  reads  to  her, — reads  until  the  fasci 
nation  of  her  eyes  draws  his  glance  from  the 
pages,  and  he  looks  up  with  the  feeling  of 
horror  and  oppression  that  now  possesses  him. 
Sometimes  he  longs  for  the  sound  of  her  voice. 
Indeed,  sometimes  the  longing  becomes  so 


A    VEILED  KECORD.  341 

intense  that  he  clenches  his  hands,  and  the 
perspiration  stands  in  great  beads  upon  his 
forehead. 

Sometimes  he  sits  in  the  twilight,  the  silent 
figure  near,  and  thinks  of  the  tones  of  a  voice 
long  ago.  He  tries  to  recall  the  intonation 
she  gave  to  his  name,  and  certain  phrases  she 
used.  He  wonders  if  the  tones  are  just  right 
in  his  memory. 

At  these  times  he  thinks  every  moment : 

"Will  she  speak?  She  is  about  to  speak 
now.  In  a  moment  she  will  speak  my  name." 
And  he  sits  breathlessly,  with  his  head  partly 
turned.  There  is  never  a  word,  never  a  sound, 
never  a  motion. 

He  is  working  in  his  flower-bed.  He  puts 
down  his  trowel  and  hurries  In,  suddenly  pos 
sessed  with  the  idea — "  She  may  feel  like 
speaking,  and  I  not  be  there."  Or  while  he  is 
at  work  among  the  flowers  he  looks  up  to  find 
her  looking  at  him. 

Her  dog  is  at  her  feet.  She  never  notices 
him,  never  touches  him.  Braine  can  no 
longer  find  a  trace  of  Helen,  his  wife,  in  this 
woman.  He  tries  in  vain  to  recall  her  expres 
sion. 

This  evening  he  is  standing  at  the  little  gate 
leading  to  the  lane.  He  leans  on  it  in  the 
sweet  silence,  that  the  birds  are  emphasizing. 


342  JUGGERNAUT: 


He  is  looking  off  into  the  far-away,  his  white 
hair  touched  by  the  setting  sun. 

Is  it  the  effect  of  the  dying  light,  or  is  his 
face  different  ?  His  dark  eyes  have  grown 
dreamy  with  their  absent  look.  There  is  a 
half  smile  on  his  firm,  tender  lips  ;  an  expres 
sion  of  resignation,  which  is  not  dogged  but 
cheerful  ;  an  expression  that  impels  the  squir 
rel  on  the  rail  of  the  fence  to  stay  where  he  is, 
and  the  dog  to  poke  his  black  nose  into  his 
master's  hand. 

He  turns  toward  the  house,  stooping  over 
the  sweet-williams  to  gather  the  accustomed 
bunch.  He  goes  into  the  cottage  with  them 
in  his  hand,  the  same  half-smile  on  his 
lips. 

In  the  doorway  he  pauses.  He  stands  gaz 
ing  at  the  figure  in  the  chair  by  the  window. 
What  has  come  over  him  ?  He  brushes  his 
hand  slowly  across  his  eyes.  Helen  sits  by 
the  window.  Where  is  the  terrible  face  that 
has  haunted  him  all  these  months  ? 

He  goes  nearer.  She  is  asleep.  The  set 
ting  sun  burnishes  the  gold  of  her  hair  until  it 
is  like  the  aureole  of  a  saint.  It  frames  the 
face  not  of  the  woman  who  has  sat  in  silence 
so  long,  but  of  the  woman  who  loved  him  in 
his  youth.  The  same  sweet  mouth  with  its 
tender  smile.  The  wife  of  his  youth,  of  his 


A   VEILED  RECORD.  343 

love,  of  his  happiness,  of  his  poverty,  of  his 
eminence,  of— 

He  is  at  her  side.  The  sun  has  lowered  a 
little,  and  the  delicate  flush  on  her  face  is 
going  with  it. 

He  bends  near  her  till  his  lips  touch  her 
tender  ones  that  seem  to  invite. 

He  leans  heavily  against  her  chair.  He  lays 
the  sweet-williams  gently  in  her  dead  hands, 
as  the  sun  sets  behind  the  hill. 

Juggernaut  has  passed  over  his  soul  and 
Helen's. 


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